


Of the Sun and the Stars

by Arctic_comet



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-11-18 10:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctic_comet/pseuds/Arctic_comet
Summary: June tastes freedom, but can things really ever go back to what they used to be? Happy June/Nick ending guaranteed.Rated M for consensual sex, violence, cursing and non-graphic mentions of past rapes.





	1. A Simpler Time (Prologue)

It used to be easier. The only thing he had to do was comply and he'd stay alive, well-fed with a roof over his head. There was nothing or nobody else to care about except for himself. He was numb, and although it wasn't great, it was  _safe_. Then he cut off a dead girl hanging from the ceiling and decided he never wanted to see it happen again. If only it had stopped there. Developing feelings for the new handmaid was never part of the plan. The more unfeeling he managed to appear, the safer it would've been for everyone.  

When Nick started fantasizing about shoving his gun into Waterford's mouth and pulling the trigger, or tearing the man into pieces limb by limb, he knew he was screwed. He's glad he's well practiced in looking emotionless and indifferent, because otherwise the Commander would see the anger and the hate he feels for the man. An even scarier prospect is that he'd see his love for June. Yes. _Love_. He's pragmatic enough to know there's no use in denying it anymore, at least to himself.

There's nothing better than having her confide in him, seeking out his arms for comfort, and crying out his name when she comes. She has a husband and he's not holding onto any false hope that she's going to choose him in the end if they're both still alive by that point, but she's made him feel alive again. He once believed that the Sons of Jacob would give him his life back, but no. It was June who did that. He finally has something else to lose besides his own life.

He always used to tell himself that he's only one man and can't fight an entire government alone. That still holds true, but these days he has a way of contacting others who want to take Gilead down as much as he does. He's stayed on the outskirts of the movement, merely dipping his toe in every once in a while because it's so damned risky. One mistake and he's done for, his cover blown and running for his life (which he would most likely fail in). They understand, and allow it because as an Eye his information and involvement are extremely valuable.

The night June broke down and told him to fuck himself, he held her for hours, listening as her sobs subsided and turned into hiccups. She also told him that Waterford had forced her to kiss him the night before and that she'd scrubbed her mouth so hard that her gums had bled. Even now he remembers the feeling of his grip on her tightening, of his insides twisting painfully in anger. He wanted to march into the Waterfords' bedroom and beat the shit out of the Commander. But that would've ruined everything, so he closed his eyes and buried his face in June's hair, keeping his breathing even and controlled. _In... Out... In... Out._  

Then she asked him to kiss her, to banish the memories of the man who raped her every month, whose touch made her want to vomit. He kissed her as tenderly as he could, but it soon became obvious that it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted a kiss like the one they'd shared outside her room, him pressing her against the wall. He gave her that, and then he made love to her. The expression sounds almost foreign, but it's appropriate. When she left right before sunrise, she was still blaming herself for not saying anything to the Mexican Ambassador, but he hoped he made her feel at least a little bit more like a human being for a while.

He hated the time when Mrs. Waterford stood in the corner of his room while he essentially did the same thing as her husband later that night. He hates thinking he's just as bad as the man he despises so much and who June can't bear to touch. The one crucial difference of course is that she came to him again and again, had sex with him willingly, and enjoyed it. He held back to make sure she got off properly, only then allowing himself to let go. Even now he misses her, aware that there's no guarantee that they'll ever be together like that again. So many things could go wrong. How long does he have before Waterford figures out June's baby is his? There's no way he can prove it unless Serena Joy confesses she asked him to do it, but in this world it doesn't matter. They will come for him and beat a confession out of him if they have to. Then they will have the handmaids kill him, unless the Commander decides the insult is too personal and does it himself.

The truth slaps him hard in the face as he watches June's daughter play with the other children. Her name is Hannah, and she's a healthy and beautiful little girl. It's taken him some time to find her, especially operating as he usually does, by simply listening instead of actively asking after the girl. It would've been too dangerous for June and for Hannah for him to do that. Too dangerous for his own baby. Now he knows there's a real chance he could become a father in some months.

Their baby might live, like Hannah does. He can't approach her now, but as he looks at her, he swears to her, to June and to his unborn child that he will save them all, even if it's the last thing he does. There's no way he's going to let the Waterfords take their baby and send June away to be raped by another commander. Mayday will get them to safety if they still want his services as a double agent. They will save his family. _Family_ is yet another word that feels like a stranger to him after all this time, but he can't think of a better one, and he finds that he likes it when words and expressions and things from way before any of this shit ever happened pop into his mind.  

What he's currently the most worried about is whether getting June out before taking Hannah will endanger the girl's life. She's still valuable to Gilead even if June gets away, but can he count on that? And can he ever look June in the eye again if he's wrong? How long can he afford to wait?

Somewhere out there is still a world where people aren't pressured or forced to do horrible things, where people have choices. That's the kind of world he wants his child to grow up in, whether there's a place for him there or not. Maybe he doesn't deserve to see it, after everything he's done. He's complicit, an enabler. Or at least he _was_. The least he can do is save someone else. 

The world may have been screwed up long before Gilead, but what they are doing is even worse. Nobody is actually happy. None of the things that are allowed feel real. Nick doesn't know exactly how many people Mayday has managed to recruit, but if the others are anything like him, the number could be higher than the commanders want to believe. It's hard to say, as he only interacts with people when he has to. June is an exception. Rita isn't a friend either, but they have a deal: _don't ask, don't tell, close your eyes and I'll close mine._ He hasn't been able to determine how much help he could possibly get from her, and he's not going to ask unless there's nobody else.

The time isn't right to take the commanders down yet, but the day will come, and as much as he should be focusing on the big picture, Nick's decided that Commander Fred Waterford will meet his maker by his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom and pairing, hope I did okay :)


	2. Fourteen

June has no idea how long the car ride takes, but it feels like hours. She should be more worried than she is because this is a world where nobody can be trusted, but the June who believed in others trusts Nick. It may turn out to be the stupidest thing she's ever done, but it's so hard not to when she considers his reaction to the baby. One hand on her shoulder and the other one on her belly, stroking her gently. His forehead on her arm. Devotion. Reverence. _Love._ Is it even possible in this godforsaken place?

_How many men have knelt beside a woman since the beginning of Gilead?_

She meant what she told Serena Joy. She doesn't want to bring a child into that house, and she most definitely didn't pray for this to happen, but having a baby with Nick... The idea in itself doesn't feel vile or disgusting or wrong, like it would if it were the Commander's child. It's a miracle, actually, considering how little she knows about Nick. He's offered her so little information. It didn't seem to matter before because she knew the essentials: he's an Eye, but also lonely like she is, doesn't like tuna, can make her feel safe, is good in bed as well as surprisingly sweet at times. Now she also knows his last name and that he's from Michigan. It's so little that she lets out a laugh. _This is all she knows about the father of her child and yet she trusts him?_ She's got to be the biggest fool around.

When the doors are pulled open again, she finds herself staring at the Red Center. Where it all began. She should probably be relieved, but panic fills her as she thinks about having to go back to the Waterfords after a while. This is nothing but a temporary reprieve. Being tortured to death by the Eyes seems like a more appealing option than going back there, where the Commander surely still won't leave her alone and nobody in the house has the power to stop him. _Trust me._ Was that nothing but bullshit? No. There _has_ to be more than this.

"Fourteen days," murmurs one of the Eyes to her suddenly, walking beside her.

"What?" She whispers back.

"Fourteen days," he repeats quietly.

_Fourteen days until what?_

***

It turns out that her punishment only features endless lectures from Aunt Lydia, in addition to repeating ridiculous verses of scripture a thousand times over and over. They don't touch a hair on her head, not even when she rolls her eyes. The baby keeps her untouchable. It's a privilege that she hasn't had before, and she can't help but use it in any way she can. She talks back to the Aunts, earning smirks from the others. They'd probably applaud her, but they're all scared. _One day it will be their wardens who are scared._

On day ten, the morning sickness starts. She's crouched over the toilet in the same cubicle where Moira once scraped a message. The original message itself is of course long gone, but there's a faint mark in the lower part of the wall. She reaches out, trailing the letters with her finger. 

_AUNT LYDIA SUX_

The words are there. They're no longer Moira's, but someone else's, someone's who was encouraged by the original ones, like Moira wanted to believe would happen. Now her best friend is broken. _Everyone breaks._ Maybe, but she always wanted to think Moira wouldn't be one of them. She was always the strongest person June knew, and if she's broken, what hope does she have? What hope does anyone else have? But the strong-willed and brave Moira she knew before all this is still there. She will make it, even if June doesn't. _If she's gone, what will happen to Hannah?_

***

By day fourteen, she's almost forgotten the man's words until the same pair of guards comes for her. She's still not convinced they're not taking her back, until she realizes that the ride lasts longer. Much longer.

Eventually she's let out in what seems to be in the middle of a forest. As her eyes adjust to her surroundings, she spots them: camouflaged huts.

One of the guards nudges her forward gently.

"Over there," he says, pointing at a point smack in the middle of what now appears to be a little camp. _What is this place? Why are you leaving me here?_ A million questions plague her mind, but the Eyes are already marching back to the van, leaving her behind with barely a glance. Drawing in a deep breath, she takes a step. Then one after another until reaching the hut in the middle.

There are at least a half a dozen people inside when she pokes her head in.

"Hello?" she calls out uncertainly.

All heads turn in her direction, and one man even points a gun at her.

"Put the gun down, Greg. We were expecting a Handmaid, remember?" says a woman, standing up. As she walks into the light, June takes in her brown hair and kind smile, which somehow doesn't seem to reach her eyes. 

"Sorry," mutters the young man, the gun disappearing back into his pants as quickly as it appeared.

"Give us some privacy, please," requests the woman, addressing the others still in the hut. They get up obediently and leave, making June feel more at ease. No more stares.

"We weren't sure you'd make it here, but nevertheless, welcome. You can call me Rose," continues the woman, holding out her hand for June to shake. After eyeing it hesitantly for a while, she takes it.

"What is this place?" she asks.

Rose laughs.

"Good question. This is a place where people who want no part of Gilead go to. A refugee camp of sorts. You're the first Handmaid we've had since I got here. What's your name?"

"I'm June. Are you part of.. Mayday?"

"Great to meet you, June. I guess you could say we are... But keeping in contact is hard, so we're mostly isolated from the parts of the movement that work outside Gilead."

"I understand. My husband is in Canada... You don't think you could get a message to him? So that he'd at least know that I'm here."

"I can try, but no promises. You need to change out of those clothes. There's a pile over there, just take anything you want."

The clothes have no bright colors on them, and June loves them immediately for it. _No more red._ She picks out regular underwear, socks, a pair of pants and a sweater. It's a start.

"Oh, we need to take care of this," says Rose, her fingers suddenly hovering over the red tag on her ear.

Getting rid of the tag hasn't even crossed her mind in ages, but when Rose clips it off and carefully removes it, a weight falls of her shoulders. _No._  She won't cry in front of this friendly stranger, at least not until she knows if she can trust her. So she squeezes her eyes shut and prays Rose doesn't notice.

"Would you like some time for yourself? I can show you the rest of the camp later," asks the other woman gently. 

June nods.

"Can I have a walk outside?"

"You're not a prisoner here, June, of course you can... But I wouldn't wander too far, just to be on the safe side. Is there anything else I need to know?"

_Should she tell her?_

"I'm pregnant," she exhales.

"Really? Wow. Not sure if I should say congrats, though, considering the circumstances," Rose replies, grimacing.

"You can say that." Especially now that she's out of that house. For better or for worse, she's not planning on going back. Wasn't it a state motto back in the day? _"Live Free or Die."_

"Well, congratulations then."

 "Thank you."

There are twenty people living in the camp. According to Rose, the number varies from ten to thirty. Some people come and go, trying to get to Canada or try to make it on their own. Most of them are former Marthas, but they also have a handful former drivers. _Men like Nick, but not like Nick_. No children. She's the only Handmaid. And Rose herself is a former Wife. After hearing about her background, June avoids her for two days. It's hard to fathom how someone holding such a good position would abandon it for a camp in the woods where water, electricity and even food are tightly rationed. _I couldn't live with myself anymore. And here I have independence and agency._  The answer makes sense, but she can't help but harbor some suspicions toward the woman even after the talk. _Time will tell._

***

"Do you know if any Eyes are in on this?" June asks Rose about a week after arriving as they prepare dinner. Boiled potatoes, carrots and rabbit meat.

The older woman whistles.

"In on Mayday? No, I don't. It's possible for sure, but would be dangerous as hell. If there are any people like that, I'm pretty sure only a select few would know about it."

June nods. 

"Why do you want to know?"

She shrugs, shaking her head nonchalantly.

"No reason, just wondering if the resistance has managed to infiltrate their ranks." _Can it be true? Is Nick part of Mayday?_

As much as she enjoys her newfound sense of freedom, it's impossible not to worry.  _Where do the Waterfords believe she is? If she's still supposed to be at the Red Center, they've definitely noticed her absence by now. What if Serena Joy has hurt Hannah?_

The questions keep her awake for long periods at night, and there's nobody to ask them. The men who brought her there are long gone, and she hasn't seen Nick since he slipped into her bedroom and told her to go with the Eyes. That was nearly three weeks ago.  _What if Hannah is dead because of her?_ June may be technically free, but she's still powerless. Dependent on others.

"Like you said, there aren't any other Handmaids here. How come you haven't asked how I managed to get away?" she asks, changing the subject.

"I was told to expect a Handmaid, so it's not like you just showed up here without warning. I can imagine what those people must've put you through, and you'll offer me whatever info you want to. If you were a spy, we'd all be dead by now," Rose replies, offering her a wry grin. 

As much as June tries not to put much faith in this woman, it gets more difficult every day.

***

"June. June, wake up."

At first she thinks the soft words in her ear and the warm hand on her shoulder are a dream, but they don't disappear when she opens her eyes.

There's a silhouette of a man right in front of her, his dark shape illuminated only by the moonlight.


	3. Mayday

_"Is this it? Is this enough for you, this bullshit life? Is this what you want? You want to polish his car and once in a while just try to get a Handmaid pregnant? Is that enough for you?"_

He wanted to tell her everything then. Of course this life isn't enough for him (he doubts it is for anyone), and he's working on fixing his mistakes, but it was always going to take time and at that stage he wished for nothing more than for her to lay low and not get herself killed before he could do more for her. She wouldn't have listened.

Gilead is a hell of its own, one that he allowed to be born and even participated in. She's had to endure things that have have driven women to take their own lives. Removing her from the situation isn't a miracle remedy, but he hopes she's at least a bit better off now, that she's not considering doing anything to herself. Although he's already endangered her life by helping her to the camp, and he has no doubt she will take another risk and try to get across the border at some point. If she makes it... He'll probably never see her again. But it's better for her to be alive and unattainable than dead. And she would have died if she'd stayed, if he'd done nothing more than what he was supposed to.

He doesn't know what it's like to live in perpetual fear of sexual assault and physical abuse like the Handmaids do. But he does know what it feels like to watch someone you care about be subjected to those things, and not be able to do anything about it. 

Waterford's visits to Jezebel's with June left him feeling even more powerless than before. The fear in her eyes at being left alone with the man. Knowing what inevitably happened after he left the room. The Commander did to her exactly what he did to the Offred who killed herself. Started destroying her soul, without accepting any responsibility for doing so. No amount of evil should surprise him after all these years, but dealing with Waterford's deeds recently has been harder than anything he's witnessed. He became both a rebel and an Eye to stop another girl from killing herself, and yet here he is. History repeating itself, this time with a woman he's somehow fallen for, and for a while he was so _fucking_ useless he wanted to bash his head on the wall.

 _What kind of a man can't even protect his own?_   The problem always was and still is that saving one woman's life isn't a priority to the resistance. It's all about the bigger picture, _the greater good_ , so to speak.The expression makes him shudder, because it's been used to justify so many things, such as the Handmaids. He couldn't do it. Couldn't watch her wilt away. If he hadn't helped her out, he'd have cracked at some point. The closer he got to her, the harder it became to control himself around Waterford. 

Then there is the twisted truth that he needs Waterford. _For now._ The man trusts him and at times that gives him access to valuable information that can be used against him and the other commanders later. If Waterford goes down too soon, he'll inevitably lose the access and could be placed with a Commander who trusts him less.

Why did he tell June that he was an Eye in the first place? Because she deserved some honesty and giving her that piece of information was one of the least risky alternatives. Because giving her that part of himself should've been a foolproof way of getting her to stay away from him, to stop things from getting to where they were now. He fully expected her to be repulsed by the news and never talk to him again. Nobody trusts an Eye. It would've made sense for her to stay away from him, even more so after what Serena Joy made him do to her. That way he could've kept away from her as well. In hindsight, he shouldn't have been surprised that she'd turned the tables on him.

He parks the car a half a mile away. Coming here and sneaking back is risky, and has taken hours of planning, but he has to see her. He left home on foot, getting into the first car a mile away, and then changed to another after nearly 100 miles. Then another couple of hours of driving, keeping one eye on the rear view mirror at all times. It's all worth it when he parks the car a half a mile from the camp and one of the men keeping watch points him to the hut where the women sleep. June's lying on her side, her back against a wall. Careful not to wake the others, he shakes her, calling out her name quietly.

***

June gasps in horror, her hands clenching into fists, ready to strike the intruder, but he grasps her wrists loosely.

"It's just me," Nick whispers, releasing her.

She punches him lightly on the shoulder anyway. _Fuck him for scaring her half to death._ He barely flinches at the contact.

After that no force in the universe can stop her from embracing him because he's the only familiar thing out here and she's been so worried and so alone.

"Come with me," he says into her ear, pulling away slightly.

His breath makes her skin break out in goosebumps, reminding her of how she's missed him. She takes his hand and he leads her outside, where one of the drivers is unloading paper bags full of groceries from the trunk of a car.

"Did you bring the food?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Black market?"

"Mostly."

"I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again, to be honest."

"I'm sorry. I had to make sure I wouldn't be followed, and I have to leave again soon to make it back by morning," he explains, opening the car door for her. "We can talk in here," he says, getting in after her.

"You should've told me you were in Mayday!" she hisses at him when the backdoor's barely slammed shut. All the anger, frustration and worry she's been holding in recently comes pouring out of her now that he's finally there, and she wants to yell at him, maybe even smack him again. 

"I didn't want to make things more difficult for you. I couldn't have helped you out any sooner."

"More difficult for me? Knowing that the man I was sleeping with is actually in the resistance instead of a fucking impotent minion of Gilead would hardly have been bad news!"

As usual, he lets her rant and rave and says nothing. Tonight it makes her angrier.

"Don't you have anything to say?!" June demands.

"The only words I have will never be enough," he sighs, and she feels like a deflated balloon. They don't have much time, and she shouldn't waste it on an argument.

"How long have you been in Mayday?" she asks.

"I contacted them a little after the Offred before you killed herself," he replies. 

"Who do the people here think you are?" 

"Most of them have never seen me. The ones that have think I'm just Nick the driver who happens to help out the resistance."

"So I'm the only one here who knows the whole truth?"

"Yes."

"Mayday's not supposed to save Handmaids one by one, is it?"

"No," he starts, clearly calculating exactly how much he should tell her even now. "There's a bigger plan. Some people have been able to cross over to Canada, but Handmaids are trickier. It hasn't been done before, at least not successfully," he continues, swallowing hard.

 _Of course it's dangerous. Everything is dangerous here._ But it makes sense that the suffering of one woman wouldn't mean much to a large resistance movement. It makes sense that Luke hasn't been able to get to her in part because of that. 

"What makes me so special?" she asks, already knowing this is a question he won't answer. And he doesn't, but instead changes the topic.

"How are you, really?"

June blinks at the question and realizes she's not sure how to answer him. Is she fine? No, she doesn't know if she'll ever be fine again.

"I'm... Better. Now that I no longer have to live there."

He nods.

"Good."

His hand comes to rest on top of hers between them on the backseat, at first only hovering over it, barely touching. When she doesn't pull away, he gets bolder. It's such a simple gesture, but it awakens the hunger in her. He's not pushing her away anymore. She scoots closer to him, pressing her forehead against his. He tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. He seems perfectly content to stay like this, but it's not enough for her, so she closes the distance between them, crushing her mouth against his. She knows she shouldn't do this with Nick again, now that she's closer than ever to getting back to Luke, but she's weak. _So. Weak._ The guilt is there, but only at first and only for a fleeting moment. He responds to her kiss, letting her control the pace as usual.

Before long, she's unzipping her jacket and climbing into his lap. She gets rid of his jacket and shirt before pulling her own sweater over her head. Nick looks at her chest with curiosity, fingering the lower edge of her plain bra. It's not sexy in any way, but a reminder of normalcy. His mouth follows his gaze, kissing and licking the exposed skin between her breasts.

When she reaches out to undo his pants, she feels him hesitate.

"It's okay," she whispers, knowing he's worried about hurting the baby. He's never brutal with her, and she needs this so much. This time it's both new and familiar, there's nobody around who would arrest them for it, and her regular clothes make her feel almost as if they're in a different world. People used to have sex in cars back in the day. She's only done it once before, with a college boyfriend, a couple of years before meeting Luke.

He peels her pants off slowly, but she knows who she's with and where she is. The delusional bastard who raped her has no place here. Just as before, it gives her joy that he hasn't managed to take this from her. She can still find pleasure in her own body, and in a man's. At least this part of her is still alive.

Nick's hands still at her hips as he moves down, his hot breath suddenly hitting the skin below her navel. Her fingers dig into his hair as he kisses the place their baby resides. _Still so small, and yet already so important._ There's nothing to see there yet, but it is alive, she knows as much. She had the same symptoms when she was pregnant with Hannah, and they haven't let up.

She's a little cold until Nick covers her body with his, the warmth seeping from him to her. _How is he always so warm?_

***

Afterward, she lies on top of him, his hands stroking her back. _Up and down. Up and down._

"What do they think happened to me?" She knows she doesn't have to clarify who she means.

"They think you were taken to a detention center," he answers. "If someone starts looking into it, they'll find forged paperwork to confirm it."

"How long will that work?"

"So far they've been too scared to ask about you, but if they insist on seeing you... There's nothing that can be done. We may have a few weeks."

"They might hurt Hannah when they find out I'm not with the Eyes."

Nick nods somberly. 

"I'm not going anywhere without my daughter," she says.

"I know," he replies.

"Is there a way to get her out here, too?"

"Maybe. I'm working on it. It'll take some time."

"Can you do it before Serena Joy finds out the truth?"

"I hope so."

It's not nearly good enough when her little girl's life is at stake, but she knows it's all she's going to get.

"I should get going," he murmurs dejectedly, running a hand down her bare arm. He doesn't want to go.

They dress in silence, and she wonder when she'll see him again. Or _if_ she will see him again.

"When are you coming back?"

"Next week, I hope."

"Okay."

He closes the door again behind them and corners her against it for one last kiss. She closes her eyes and holds onto him for one more second. At last he pulls away and she turns toward the camp, ready to return to the others.

"Hold on, June," he calls out softly.

She turns back, watching him reach for something in the glove compartment. He throws something on the front seat before holding out a pill bottle.

"Here," he says.  _Prenatal vitamins_ , according to the label.

She nods.

"You should take this, too," he continues, reaching for what he just placed on the seat. A handgun.

June swallows, accepting it from him.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" he asks.

"Not really." 

They never had a gun in the house, not when she was growing up, and neither she or Luke ever saw the need for one, either. _That was then, this is now_. She used to be terrified of guns. Now it gives her confidence to know that she's going to have one.

"You widen your stance a bit, aim, and pull the trigger. There's a bit of a recoil, so be prepared, but it shouldn't be too bad," he explains, guiding her hands, showing her the right way to hold the firearm.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He doesn't have to tell her to use it as needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning of the chapter is of course directly from episode 1x08.


	4. Pink

Nick returns to the camp three times within the next couple of weeks, and they always end up in the back of his car. 

"Tell me something, Nick," June asks.

"What?"

"Anything, anything at all. Something that has nothing to do with Gilead."

He takes a moment to think, absently tracing the curve of her hip with his fingertips while considering what to say.

"Me and my brother Joshua, we used to play pond hockey on cool nights like this, back when we were kids."

"Sounds nice. What happened to him?"

"Drank himself to death."

"What about your parents?"

"My dad died around five years ago. Mom died when I was eight. Cancer."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. It feels strange for her to be the one to say the words to him instead of the other way around.

He sighs against the top of her head.

"It's getting late," he says, leaving her to wonder if she'll ever learn to know this man. _It shouldn't matter because she's got Luke._

Luke, her husband, who still has no idea she's managed to get away from the Waterfords. Apparently there aren't many ways to get a message to Canada, aside from saying or writing one to give to someone who's about to risk their life and make an attempt to cross the border. There hasn't been a single chance to do that since she came to the camp. People are scared of freezing to death in this weather, according to Rose. There should be several chances come springtime, but June's not sure if she's got that kind of time. She needs to go before the pregnancy slows her down too much, but not without Hannah. Nick hasn't told her much about what's going on with her, except that several people will need bribes, and some of them may still not be trustworthy. 

"Does she remember me?" she asks him, watching as he pulls his jacket back on.

He shakes his head.

"I don't know. I haven't talked to her myself, and I haven't mentioned you to anyone. It's better that way."

Better meaning _safer_. In her weakest moments, she wonders if she can truly trust him to get Hannah out. After all, Hannah's life shouldn't mean anything to him. Then she sees him and it's next to impossible to think he'd lie to her about Hannah. _Do his motives matter if he can and wants to help her?_

"I should be back in a few days," he tells her as they stand beside the car. His head rests on her shoulder for a few seconds longer than usual, but she thinks nothing of it. _Maybe he's just getting tired._

 ***

The sand in the hourglass is nearly gone. He heard Mrs. Waterford tell her husband that he needs to personally make sure that the baby is okay. Not Offred, but _the baby,_ because to her June means nothing. She's a nameless incubator. That woman makes him nearly as sick as the Commander. Obsessed with a child that has nothing to do with her. It's hard to understand how anyone would go to such lengths to steal a child from their parents. Tearing a child from an unwilling Handmaid doesn't make it theirs.

When he was younger, becoming a father and having a family were never priorities to him. In fact, they seemed like distant and most likely impossible dreams, especially considering their birth rates. That was never the hardest part of his reality to accept, maybe in part because he never had a serious relationship. Who would've wanted to marry a guy who looked after his alcoholic brother and retired father and couldn't hold a job? Too much baggage. He may not know all that much about June's life before all this, but he doubts she would've even looked at him twice. That's at least what he keeps telling himself as he tries to arrange a way for June to get out of Gilead safely and all he can think is that he's never going to see her again. She's going to get to Canada and live with her husband and daughter. _End of story_.

He has to trust her to make the right decisions about the baby, and he does. She knows how to be a mother, much more than he will ever know about how to be a father. Once he's taken Hannah to June, he decides it's best to think about her and the baby as little as possible. For the rest of his life.

The Underground is hard to contact when you're a man, and getting them to trust you is even harder. He understands their reasons, but it's frustrating nevertheless. They don't believe him when he says he helped a Handmaid out of his household and now needs their help to get her across the border. In situations like this one, it'd be much more practical to be a well-known member of the resistance rather than someone whose allegiances are only known by few.

Their success rate overall is low, and not a single Handmaid has actually made it to Canada, but all the other options are even less secure. There's no time to try to convince them for a second time though. He's managed to bribe a driver, a Martha and an Aunt and is going to take Hannah to June later that night. The Aunt was the hardest one to crack, but fortunately the woman has a weakness for Mexican tequila, a brand available only for Commanders. He'd been hoping for a few more days to talk to the Underground again, but the Aunt insisted it had to be tonight or never.

"You're late," grumbles the Martha, setting the sleeping child on the backseat. 

He doesn't respond, but instead lifts the blanket to make sure it's really Hannah. 

"How come she didn't wake up when you took her out of bed?" he asks, his suspicions growing.

"Well, obviously I had to give her something to make her sleep a little more soundly."

God. This woman drugged a child.

"We never discussed this!" he hisses.

"There was never any question about it! I would've never agreed to take this risk if you'd insisted I don't drug her."

This is the most inconvenient time to argue with anyone, so he lets it go. 

"Can you swear to me that she'll be fine in the morning?"

"Absolutely. Look, she's breathing just fine. She'll wake up in the morning and be no worse for wear."

"Let's hope so," he says under his breath, fastening his seat belt.

 ***

It's Rose who wakes June up that night, whispering her name. She opens her eyes and squints at the light emanating from the flashlight in Rose's hand.

"What is it?" she asks.

"It's your little girl," Rose replies, and June can hear the smile in her voice.

Hannah? Can it really be her, after all this time? June pinches herself as she pulls on her clothes, just to make sure she's not dreaming. 

Rose leads her to the spot where Nick usually parks, and finds him there, holding open the backdoor. Inside is the best sight in the world. Her daughter, sleeping calmly and wrapped warmly in blankets.

"Hannah," she exhales, no longer able to stop herself from gathering her small body into her arms and burying her head in Hannah's hair. _She smells exactly the way she used to._

"I can carry her inside," offers Nick. 

As reluctant as June is to let go of her daughter, she allows him to pick her up and set her on her mattress in the hut. Hannah's always been a deep sleeper, but surely she should be awake after she's been moved around like this?

"Is something wrong with her?" she asks, brushing Hannah's hair off her forehead. She seems unharmed and her chest is rising and falling normally, but _why isn't she waking up?_

"The Martha I bribed to help me gave her something. She swore Hannah's going to wake up in the morning and be okay. I didn't know..."

"You'd better hope she's right!" she lashes out, turning her back to him.

 ***

Nick watches June for a while as she sobs over Hannah's sleeping form. It's better to part ways like this than to stage some awkward goodbye where he wouldn't have anything sensible to say anyway. She won't even know he's gone.

_Goodbye, June._

He never says the words out loud before backing out of the hut, back into the night. 

It will be light soon and he's got a long drive ahead of him. But before that he still needs to make some arrangements. Entering the men's hut, he shakes one of the men.

"I need to talk to you," he tells Greg, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder.

***

Hannah does wake up in the morning, immediately panicking at the strange surroundings. 

"Honey, Hannah, please look at me. It's me, Mommy. I know you may not remember me, but it's all going to be all right. You're safe here, I promise," June tries her best to soothe the girl, but she's terrified of her. Rose comes in and somehow they manage to convince her to change her clothes and eat some breakfast.

"You need to eat, too" says Rose sternly, handing her a piece of bread. June eats, but it all comes back up within the hour. 

Hannah doesn't want to talk to anyone, but cowers in the corner of the hut, eyeing everyone warily.

"We're all strangers to her," sighs Rose.

"I can't believe she doesn't know me anymore," she cries. 

"You need to have some patience, June. You've been apart for years. Give her time, she may start to remember you at some point."

"We have to get across the border soon, but she won't go anywhere with me now."

Rose squeezes her shoulder.

As much as it hurts that Hannah's forgotten her, she hardens herself as well as she can and decides that convincing Hannah that she's her mother can wait until they're in Canada. She focuses on befriending her and gaining at least a bit of her trust, so that she can take her with her. The trek is going to be dangerous and difficult even without Hannah trying to run away from her, or, in the worst case scenario, towards their pursuers.

***

Commotion in the hut wakes June two nights later. Several women are moving around, and Rose is at the door, holding her flashlight. The face of one of the newcomers is a familiar one.

"Rita?" she calls out uncertainly. Her sleep-addled brain may have made a mistake.

"Hi," Rita greets, grasping her hand briefly. 

"You got away."

"I did. Is this your baby girl?" Rita asks, nodding at Hannah, who's asleep next to her.

"Yeah, this is Hannah... How did you... Where's Nick?" she asks, cold dread sweeping through her body. 

Rita shakes her head.

"The Eyes took him away earlier tonight. The Commander and the Missus were convinced he helped you escape. Right before they came for him, he gave me ketamine. I put it in the their drinks after his arrest, they're probably still knocked out cold. That's how I got away. I don't... I don't think we'll see him again." 

Rita tries to hide it, but June hears her voice break at the end of the sentence. She forces herself to nod. So Nick is gone. _Just like that._ Another person she'll never see again, a child who will never know their father. Suddenly she's suffocating. Despite his words to her, she wanted to believe that he really was untouchable, that no matter what happened, he wouldn't be taken away, unlike everyone else in Gilead who ever made a positive difference in her life. _Fuck this cursed place. Fuck the people who came up with it. Fuck the Commander and his wife._

"I'm sorry, I need to... Can you watch Hannah for me, please?" she begs from the older woman.

"Of course."

"Thank you."

She ends up in the storage hut, seated atop a crate full of potatoes.

You'd think that after all these years she'd have grown numb to loss, but that's not the case. 

_Keep it together. For Hannah. For Luke. For the baby. Now's not the time to lose it. Must get to Canada._

It may not be the time to mourn, but she sits alone in the dark until dawn, her knees pulled to her chest, rocking herself. 

_We never even said goodbye._

 


	5. In Absentia

Morning arrives grey and windy, and tit starts sleeting as June returns to Hannah. Her daughter still isn't herself, opting to sit by herself most of the time, clearly wondering if she should trust any of them.

The oatmeal tastes like nothing to June, and she's about to abandon it when someone calls out her name. Greg, the driver who pulled a gun on her the first day she got there is standing next to her.

"Hey," she says.

Greg shuffles on his feet nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets. For the first time June figures that he must be barely out of his teens, his flame red hair sticking up like it hasn't seen a brush in months. They haven't spoken much since her arrival, as most of the men seem to be rather awkward around the women, but he seems genuine enough.

"I heard you want to go to Canada. Tonight would be a good time... It looks like it's going to get stormy, which would make us harder to find. The border patrols don't like bad weather either."

"Do you know the way?" There's no way she's going to endanger Hannah's life by leading her into the storm unless someone can lead the way.

"Yeah. Sort of, anyway. Mark and I, we've been thinking about getting out of here for a while. I could help you out with your daughter."

"Why are you doing this?"

Greg swallows.

"Ah... I was asked to. By Nick," he confesses, as if this unsure if he's supposed to tell her this.

"Did you hear that they arrested him last night?"

"I did, but I don't think he was planning on coming back here either way. He asked me when he brought your daughter."

"Right."

"I don't... I don't know what the deal was with you and him, but I'm sorry for your loss," he says softly.

June nods, rubbing under her eyes to stop the stinging.

"I'm coming with you tonight," states Rita matter-of-factly, falling into the seat next to June's.

"You are?"

"Yeah. Can't let you go alone with these juniors, can I?" she says, nodding to Greg.

 ***

"Where are we going?" asks Hannah, yawning.

"To Canada, honey. It's going to be much nicer there than it is here, I promise you," swears June, zipping up Hannah's coat up to the girl's neck. The weather outside is as bad as ever, and darkness has fallen.

"Is Aunt Stella going to be there?" 

June stops. This isn't the first time Hannah's asked about her, and she immediately feels resentment towards this Aunt Stella. Whoever she is, she's had a chance to see Hannah grow while June rotted with the Waterfords. It's petty though, as she should be happy that she's had at least someone she could rely on.

"I don't know, we'll see," she replies.

"I want to go to Aunt Stella," proclaims Hannah, her voice stern.

_There's no time for this._

 "You'll see her when we get to Canada," she forces out, gritting her teeth. Lying to Hannah feels horrible, but what other choices are there?

They're interrupted by Rose, who smiles at June wistfully.

"Good luck," she says, holding out her hand. Shaking her head, June pulls her into a hug.

"Are you sure you're not coming?" she asks.

"I'm sure. But who knows, maybe I'll see you there someday."

The farewell feels like another loss. 

"Do you think we'll make it?" she asks quietly, as Hannah sits down to pull her shoes on.

"It's a good opportunity. Risky, but probably the best you can hope for. Those boys know their way around the area."

 Less than an hour later they leave Rose behind, Greg carrying Hannah, June and Rita following closely behind. Mark goes first, scouting the woods for any patrols. For the first hour they're alone, the wind luckily masking the sounds of their breathing and footsteps. Suddenly there's a gunshot, followed by another one, reminding June of the day she first tried crossing the border with Luke and Hannah. _How long ago that was. And how much has changed. How much she has changed._

 "Faster!" shouts Greg, increasing his pace although he's already carrying Hannah.

 Suddenly June steps on something, maybe a root or a stone, and her ankle twists, pain shooting up her leg. She's alone now, all her companions lost in the storm. _This is it_ , there's no way she can get on her feet alone, and even if she can, she'll still be too slow to make it.

 _No._  

At least she still has the gun Nick gave her. She doesn't have to go back to the Waterfords, she can still choose to leave this world on her own terms. She can't hear the gunshots anymore, but the patrol has to be close. Her hands reach for the gun in her pocket. As her fingers close around the cool metal, she flashes back to the night several weeks ago, when Nick gave her the gun, his hands guiding hers on it. Of course this isn't what he meant it for, but as far as she's concerned, he gave her a choice by handing her that gun.

There's a figure in the distance, but she can't make out who it is, with the water and tears in her eyes. With a shaky hand, she lifts the gun, turning it on herself. 

 _Can Heaven even exist, after all this shit?_ She wonders, as she closes her eyes for the last time. 

Someone jerks the gun off her hands and grabs her by the shoulders.

"What do you think you're doing, June? Get up!" hisses Rita.

"You should go. I'm too slow to keep up with you," she replies, reaching to pick up the gun off the ground. 

Instead of leaving like she should, Rita bends down and drags June's arm around her shoulder.

"Let's go. I made a promise to a dead man and I'm a woman of my word," she grumbles, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her up.

Rita's stronger than she looks, and although they can't keep up with the men, they manage to get them into their sights. June looks behind them a few times, but sees nobody, and there are no more gunshots.

It's hard to tell how long it takes and June d, but just as June's about to sag against Rita in exhaustion, there's a lake, and houses around it. Greg and Mark have stopped and Hannah's sitting on a tree stump.

"This is it," says Greg, beaming. "Welcome to Canada, guys."

***

It's hours later when Luke and Moira embrace June at last, and she cries. Not all the tears are of the happy variety. A deep void in her is now filled again, but another one has opened.

***

The days that follow are a whirlwind. They refused to let Hannah leave with them before they were subjected to DNA tests. _You can never be too sure with kids these days, especially considering the stories we hear of what they do down in Gilead_ , they say, leaving June to wonder how much they really know. Hannah doesn't remember Luke either, and somehow it makes her feel better although it shouldn't.

Eventually Luke brings them into his apartment. It's probably perfectly nice if you looked at it objectively, but for June it's nothing but another place she hasn't chosen to live in. It's not her home. _Time will fix everything._ Or that's what everyone says. But can it fix the things that can never be taken back? 

Luke holds her and says it's all going to be okay. He means well, but he can't fucking know that when he doesn't know half of what's happened to her, and she pulls away, moving to the other end of the couch. Hannah's asleep by now, her cot taking up most of the space in one of the corners of the living room.

"We should talk," she suggests.

"Sure. We can talk in the other room."

They close the bedroom door and Luke takes a seat on the edge of the bed. She doesn't know where to start. _From the beginning? From the end? From all the awful things that were done to her? From all the things she enjoyed but shouldn't have? From how she betrayed him, over and over again?_ Nick's face flashes in her mind, his eyes boring into hers. _A ghost._

"June?" he asks.

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, biting her lip.

Luke inhales sharply.

"It's true what they say they do to you in Gilead, then?" he asks, horrified.

"If you mean that they rape us every month to get us pregnant and if the baby survives, they take it from us and send us to another commander's household so start it all over again," she explains, surprised at how calm her voice sounds. She can't bring herself to look at Luke, though.

When Luke says nothing, she turns to him and sees that his face has gone totally pale.

"Jesus... I'm sorry, I've got to..." he stammers, running into the adjoining bathroom where June soon hears him puking into the toilet. She can't quite bring herself to console him, instead choosing to sit down on the floor, against the wall, and wait for him to finish. 

Finally he returns, retaking his previous position on the bed.

"Some commanders use their Handmaids as sex toys, so they don't get raped only once a month... Mine did that," she continues, still unable to face her husband.

"June... God. I don't even know..."

"Then don't say anything," she snaps. She has to get this out because he has to know what she endured, even if he wasn't there himself.

"Most of the commanders are sterile, though. A lot of Handmaids can't get pregnant and then they get sent to the Colonies."

"But you... That means this baby-"

"Is not the Commander's child."

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn't.

"You- someone else.. did that to you?"

"No."

"You did it so that they wouldn't ship you to the Colonies?" he asks, desperately seeking for an explanation, hoping it's not what it sounds like.

_Say yes. Don't hurt him more than you have to. It's not like he'll ever find out the truth._

But Luke deserves the truth.

"For the first time, yes. The Commander's wife wanted to use someone else and I agreed to it. After that... I went back to him because I wanted to."

"Wanted to get pregnant?"

"No. Wanted to be with him. At first I still thought you were dead, but later on, even when I knew you were out there, and looking for me, I went to him."

Luke exhales loudly, understanding at last.

"Where's this guy now?" he asks, his voice trembling slightly.

"He's dead," she says, hating the way her voice breaks at the admission. 

He nods.

"It's a different world out there, June. The one you got away from. I just...  I just want us to move on and live as a family. That dream is what's sustained me for the last three years, and I still want that," he says, even letting out a small laugh.

"Me, too." It was always the plan. Her, Luke and Hannah. 

"But it's still going take some time for me to process all this. What happened to you, the baby, all of it."

As if _she_ doesn't need time to process everything that happened to _her_. She's not going to apologize for anything she did, even if it makes her ashamed to admit to herself that she'd do everything she did all over again, given the chance to change things. 

June sleeps in the cot with Hannah, waking up several times due to nightmares. _She sees Emily being dragged away by the Eyes. The Offred before her hanging herself. Serena Joy standing over a crib, smiling, and all June wants to do is tell her the get the hell away from her child. The Commander on top of her. Janine jumping into the river. Nick's bloodied body hanging on the wall, barely recognizable, figures dressed in red passing it by without even looking._ Things that happened, things that most likely took place, and things that will never ever come true. 

She ends up in the kitchen, looking out the window. As she turns her gaze to the shadows of the living room, she can almost see Nick standing there, quietly observing her. At this stage he's still so vivid in her mind, so life-like, just as Luke used to be at the very beginning. _How long will it take for him to fade?_


	6. Erised

The panic hits June at the strangest times, triggered by the smallest things.

_The cologne the Commander used to wear on a stranger in the supermarket._

_A woman in a green dress, blonde hair pulled up into a chignon in the subway._

These encounters paralyze June every time. Her legs turn into lead, and the flashbacks overtake her. Eventually it passes when the stranger leaves. Nevertheless, at least for as long as she doesn't know for sure that they'll never find her, it will keep happening. She can't escape it, not even after buying new clothes and cutting her hair. Not the realization that she can now read as much as she wants to, call Moira anytime she wishes, or put on makeup if she feels like it. On the surface she looks just like any other Toronto woman, but inside she's the Handmaid who wasn't even allowed to leave the house on her own.

Then there are the encounters that leave her at least just as broken, the ones when she spots a hair full of thick black hair and her heart jumps before she has time to tell it to stop and remember that he's dead and she'll never see him again. Sometimes she imagines telling him these things. What would he say? No much, she thinks. He'd hold her and let her speak, the epitome of calm which used to both infuriate and reassure her.

It's nothing but masochism, but sometimes she imagines what Nick would be doing in Toronto. She never allowed herself that back in Gilead when it came to Hannah and Luke because she would never have wanted them there. But it's good in Canada. Nick once told her that he and his brother used to play pond hockey as children. He'd like the hockey here.

Somehow she sees him the most clearly in her mind after a panic attack. What was the line from the Harry Potter book she just finished reading to Hannah?

_"You think the dead we loved truly ever leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly in times of great trouble?"_

As fucked up as it was, Nick loved her. He never said anything, but sometimes words aren't needed. And he loved their child, who now nudges her every once in a while, as if to say _I'm still here._ In a way, Nick is still alive, too. For as long as June remembers. 

 ***

_If you die and nobody remembers you, does that mean you never existed in the first place?_

  
This is what June used to wonder. Now she stands in front of the Memory Wall with Rita by her side and wonders that about all the people whose friends and family haven't brought flowers, letters or pictures here. It's just a steel fence in Toronto, close to a refugee center, where the people who survived come to say their goodbyesOne day there will be a real memorial here, now it's just a wall where the ones left behind go to relieve their own pain of loss, to honor the ones they'll never see again. .

She has three roses with tags attached to them.

  
_To the woman in my room before me. Thank you for helping me find my way. Rest In Peace._

She doesn't want to call her Offred, because that was not her name. She was another innocent woman, another victim in the face of unspeakable evil.

  
_To Emily. Thank you for your courage and your friendship. You were a light in the darkness. Rest In Peace._

  
Smart, brave, beautiful Emily, who never even found out June's real name. _What a waste._ This is all such a waste.

  
_To Nick. Thank you for my life. Rest In Peace._

  
There are days when she doesn’t feel all that grateful to be alive, but today’s not one of them. She went to a clinic earlier; the baby's growing normally and is looking like a girl, but it's still too early to tell for sure. It was hard to decide what to write on Nick’s tag, because nothing felt appropriate, so she waited until the very last moment and scrawled the message behind one of the ultrasound photos.

Writing goodbye notes shouldn't feel strange, but yet it does. It's been so long since she's been allowed to write anything. Now she can do anything, anything at all. When Hannah was first taken away and she thought Luke had been killed, there were plenty of other things to worry about. So many horrors to hear about and get used to. Now there's none of that, instead she has her daughter, husband, and best friend by her side. This time there's more time to mourn. Time to mourn the time she missed with Hannah. Time to mourn what she had with Luke before it all went to hell. Time to mourn Emily's fate. To mourn what Moira was forced to do. To mourn Nick.

She thinks about the fact that Serena Joy and the Commander are still breathing, while Nick probably experienced a lonely, painful death. It makes her so angry that tears spring into her eyes and she wants to scream at the unfairness. Now it's no longer she who needs to be remembered, but him. The petals of her and Rita's roses move in the wind, a few even coming off. This is the only memorial Nick Blaine will ever have. She could have faced the same fate herself. It could be Moira, Luke and Hannah here today, bringing roses to commemorate her. But it's not. Thanks to him, and thanks to Rita.

  
_There is no reward for good deeds. There is no God. There is no Heaven. But there is a Hell._  
  
"Who are they for?" June asks, nodding to the half a dozen roses in Rita's hand.

"One is for my son, Matthew. He was only 19 when he died… Fighting for a regime that isn't worth anyone's life," replies Rita.

"I'm sorry," June replies, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"They used him... And so many other young men. He was just a pawn in their cruel plans, we all are. My baby died for nothing, June."

She nods.

"I know."

"How are we supposed to move on from all this?" wonder Rita aloud, and June has no answer. Rita's living with her nephew, so at least she has someone, but you can't replace a lost human life, especially if it's your child.

They stand still for a moment as Rita tries not to sob, June slipping her hand into hers. 

"The rest are for a few other Marthas who took far bigger risks than I ever did. And one’s for Nick," she finally continues.

June swallows. The unsaid words burn in her throat, threatening to spill out. _Thank you, Rita._

They head to one of the refugee centers after leaving the makeshift memorial. Recently there's been some talk of a major upcoming attack on Gilead and its commanders. Apparently people are rioting in the cities and most of the border guards have been called to help quell them. More and more people have been pouring into Canada over the last few days, speaking of mass executions and general disorder. _God, please let the other Handmaids be safe_ , June prays, no matter how useless her prayers are.

The women still suffering the same fate as her are in June's mind every single day. _What they did do to Janine? Did they kill her anyway? Or did they send her to the Colonies?_ She hopes Warren Putnam becomes one of the victims of the resistance. She’s not sure if she hopes that Fred Waterford gets killed straight away or if she’d rather see him brought to justice and then executed for his crimes. At the end of the day, she figures it doesn’t matter, as long as she knows without a single doubt that he is dead.

***

Hannah meets with a therapist twice a week. Luke suggested the same for her, but she refused. He just doesn't get it. She has no interest in talking to some kind stranger who will never be able to understand. She wants her fellow Handmaids, _her sisters_. And she wants Nick. 

Moira hates talking about anything that happened in Gilead, insisting they have to move on and the best way to do that is to cry about it when you feel like it, but not to dwell on it, and most definitely not on the details. June understands, but she can't live like that. Her best friend has her own path, and she has to walk hers.

Luke on the other hand becomes uncomfortable when she tries to talk to him about what happened to her. He never says he doesn't want to hear it or that he can't bear it, but the words are obvious in his body language. 

"What are you playing, sweetie?" she asks, taking a seat on the living room floor next to Hannah that night.

"This doll here is the Handmaid. This is the Commander, and this is his wife. They're going to do the ceremony and the Handmaid will give them a baby," answers Hannah, sending June flying straight to the bathroom. Her dinner makes its second appearance, and she ends up slumping on the tiles next to the toilet seat.

"June? Everything okay?" inquires Luke, knocking on the bathroom door.

_Can anything be okay if she can't play with her child without being triggered?_

"I'll be out in a minute," she calls back.

"Can I come in?"

"Fine."

Luke opens the door and then closes it behind him, shutting them inside together.

"Was it Hannah's dolls?" he asks.

She nods.

"This can't go on. Not like this. You're-"

"Crazy? Is that what you're trying to say? That I've lost it."

"No! You're not crazy, but you need a chance to get over everything. For the sake of our family."

"What do you think I'm trying to do here, Luke? What do you suggest I do _to get over it_?" she hisses back.

"I know you said you wanted to keep the baby, but June… Babies take up a lot of resources, mentally, too. You know that. And we’ve already got Hannah, who needs you to be her mom. What I’m saying is that you’re not in great shape and adding a newborn to the mix isn’t going to help.”

For a minute June doesn't know what to say. She can't believe Luke of all people could ever suggest something like this.

“You want me to get rid of her?" she finally asks.

"I want you to be okay! Like I already said, you need time to heal, and I thought you wouldn't want living reminder of that place... Of what was done to you."

"You mean when I was raped every month? Say the word, Luke. _Rape._ "

"What I was saying is that there are a lot of childless couples here, people who would love the baby no matter how it came to be. They're not like the people in Gilead. It’d give you a chance to focus on Hannah, the three of us bonding again as a family."

It's not as if she doesn't understand his thinking. She could live in peace with Hannah and Luke, like they used to so many years ago. _Except that it wouldn't be the same._

"And how could you ever know that they’re not like the lunatics who wanted to steal my child? _You've_ been here for years, while at the same time _I_ was there for years. You can't possibly know what it was like. Yeah, a lot of things remind me of the rapes, but the baby isn't one of them."

"Sorry... I won't mention it again," says Luke, the words coming out forced. He is a good man, but we all have our limitations.

“Would you have suggested this if she were yours?” she asks, already knowing the answer. 

“If she were mine, you wouldn’t be in this state.”

In Gilead, giving up the baby was never a Handmaid's choice, but a sacrifice that was expected and forced on them. She can't forget the look on Janine's face when they took her daughter from her.

“Well, Luke, _this_ is reality. She’s my child, and she’s going to be a part of this.” 

“And I respect that. But is it too much to want my wife back? The woman I married, the mother of my child? You’re like a ghost, June," he sighs.

“Maybe that woman doesn’t exist anymore, at least not in the form you’d like.”

“Don’t say that," he replies, a sob escaping his mouth. She's sorry she's hurting him, but it's the truth. 

"I can't give her up. They might find her." Strangers wouldn't know what they even look like.

Luke frowns.

"Who exactly are _they_?"

"The Waterfords."

"But they're down in Gilead, June. They're not coming here."

"You have no idea what those people are capable of."

"I'm trying, June. I'm really trying," he says. 

"I know."

***

 _In the real memory, there was a man and a little girl in the water. Now there are two little girls, the setting sun dyeing the surface of the water orange. A man stands a few feet from them, the water only halfway up his calves, watching the children. The older one splashes water on the younger one. June shouts at Hannah not to splash her sister. The water gets into the girl's eyes and she cries out, holding her arms out. The man scoops up the toddler, bringing her close to his chest. He turns to June but before he can say anything,_ June's eyes open and she's back in the cot of their apartment, Hannah sound asleep beside her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book quote in the first section is of course from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban :)


	7. Doors of Death

Nick used to believe there could be no worse fate than death, but life proved him wrong. The first Offred proved him wrong. June proved him wrong. And finally, his own imprisonment proved him wrong. Now he knows what it is like to wish for death.

It is the fourth day after his arrest when he starts thinking something is up. Up until now they've only interrogated him about how he managed to get a Handmaid out of the city, where he took her, and so on. Nothing he wasn't expecting. Figuring he's as good as dead anyway, he's given them nothing. So they've broken his fingers. He fully expected to be dead by now, but they don't seem interested in executing him. Instead, they start asking different questions. _Who helped you? Are you in Mayday?  How long have you been involved? What are they planning?_

Involvement with the rebels is the last thing any detainee ever wants to be suspected of, and the last thing they will ever confess. Even if they're dead, the resistance will go on, and ratting out on Mayday won't save them anyway, so why talk? He's never interrogated anyone, but you hear things. Mayday is a secret you take to your grave. So he tells them nothing. They beat him, hoping to force something out of him, to no avail. The only thing he dares to hope for is a quick death, but of course they take that from him, too. It's the last thing they will ever take from him.

Eventually he loses track of time. He doesn't know how long he's been there. It could be less than ten days, or it could be a month. There's no way of knowing. The lights are on all the time, and there are no windows. There's no way out, he's going to die in here, sooner or later. He'd actually prefer sooner. He's so tired, and so hungry. 

Then comes the day when the compound loses power. Suddenly he's more alert. _There was a plan..._ He hasn't seen anyone he knows in God knows how long, but now there's a familiar voice in the cell. 

"Nick? We need to talk," says Fred Waterford, sounding surprisingly calm, considering that he's in a prison full of people who hate him with no electricity.

"What about?" he asks weakly.

"Offred."

"That's not her name." He's not going to give Waterford the satisfaction of knowing anything about June.

"What is it, then?"

Nick shakes his head. 

"None of your business." 

"She is my business. And so is that child she's carrying."

Now he remembers how he used to dream about killing this man. If only he could even get up from the floor...

"That baby isn't yours."

"So my wife claims, but I have no reason to believe it's true. Why did you do it, Nick? Why did you help her escape?"

Someone's shouting, and he hears gunshots. Waterford jumps at the sounds, too. He should be running for his life, but if Nick can stall him until they storm the cells, maybe...

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me. I thought you and I always got along so well."

It hurts, but Nick sneers.

"That was never real."

"You had it good. A place to call your own, food, a job. What reason could you possibly have had?"

He shakes his head.

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Explain it to me, then."

This is his only chance to speak his mind, to let this man know how he really feels about him.

"You're a despicable human being, and I hope you rot in hell for it. You thought you had a mistress, but you were never anything more but her rapist. She _hates_ you... I'm the father of that baby, and I didn't force myself on her. Hear the gunshots? Mayday's here, it's all over. You're never going to see her again," he finishes, at last pushing himself up to a standing position, leaning heavily into the wall.

Waterford glares at him, and he knows he's gone too far for the man not to react. The commander's flashlight clatters to the floor before a punch lands on Nick's left cheek. _Good._

"You. Are. A. Liar," hisses Waterford, seeming to have lost the last of his control. Nick reaches for the gun in his right hand, and summons the last of his energy. Waterford's hold on the gun isn't loose, and a shot goes off. At first Nick thinks it didn't hit him, but then he feels something wet on his right leg. Another shot, and this one hits his side. Letting out a pained groan, he brings his fist to the other man's jaw. It's only enough to unsettle him for a few seconds, but a headbutt does the trick, and Waterford takes a few steps back, leaving Nick with the gun. 

He pulls the trigger once. Waterford falls down. He takes another shot, this time to the heart. 

"No, I'm not. You're hearing the truth for the first time in years. Hurts, doesn't it?"

A nasty gurgle emanates from Waterford's mouth before Nick aims the gun at the man's head and pulls the trigger for a third time.

For the next few seconds there's peace, and emptiness. When the adrenaline rush subsides, pain takes over. _Fuck._ There's barely any time to think before he sinks into the darkness, but the last image his brain conjures is of June's face.

***

 _Just take it easy._ That's what the doctor just told her, after she came in complaining of stomach cramps. _The baby's fine._ As June and Moira cross the emergency room on their way out of the hospital, movement in one of the trauma rooms catches her eye. There must be nearly a dozen people running around the man lying on the gurney. _So much blood._ She stops behind the window, transfixed by the sight. From this angle, it's almost as if... _No, it can't be._

"What are you craving, June? I think I need the biggest latte that coffee shop around the corner has, along with a don- what are you doing? Yuck. That's gross, let's get out of here," insists Moira, grabbing her hand.

"No..."

"What is it?"

"I need to see that man's face... I have to know that I'm wrong, Moira. We'll just wait for one of them to move aside, and then we can go," she explains. She knows she's not making much sense, but it doesn't matter. 

"All right... But there's no way you can make me watch that horror show," replies her best friend, sitting down on one of the chairs nearby.

When a nurse steps to the side, June gasps. The seriously injured man on the gurney still looks like Nick. He's barely recognizable in that state, but it's _got_ to be him. Or maybe she really is insane now. 

Another nurse's eyes meet hers through the glass and she leaves the room.

"Ma'am, do you know this patient?" she asks.

"Yeah... He's... His name's Nick Blaine. Is he going to make it?" she almost chokes on the last question, not sure if she wants to hear the answer. 

"He's going to need surgery, but we're doing all we can. There's a room upstairs for patients' families, you can go up there and wait and we'll come and get you when he's out of surgery. How does that sound?"

"Okay," she answers, nodding. 

By the time she passes Moira, she's managed to forget she's still there.

"June? Who is that guy in there?" asks Moira, frowning.

"It's Nick. He's alive." June hasn't told her much about Nick, only the essentials. That he worked for the Waterfords. That they slept together. That he's the baby's father.

"Shit. Wow."

"I know. I have to stay here, I need to know what happens to him."

"Okay. I can call Luke."

Yeah, of course. _Luke._

"Thanks." 

***

"June, come on. You need to rest. There's nothing you can do here, just call them in the morning," pleads Luke, sitting across from her a couple of hours later. There's been no news, apparently the surgery's still going on.

"No. He could die. I don't want to hear that on the phone from some nurse in the morning." If she's being totally honest, she wants to be there if he dies. If _she'd_ died back in Gilead, she wouldn't have wanted to be alone, or surrounded by total strangers. Nick saved her life, and making sure he doesn't have to die alone is nothing compared to that.

"Fine. Call me. Love you," he says, leaning in to kiss her temple.

"Love you, too," she replies, the words coming out almost automatically. _How can Nick be alive? Why didn't they kill him weeks ago?_

A doctor gently shakes her awake hours later.

"He made it through surgery," she says, even offering an encouraging smile.

June exhales. _Thank God._

"What did they do to him?" she asks, her voice hoarse.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"The list is long, I'm afraid. Two gunshot wounds, one in the leg and the other one on his side, the bullet punctured a lung. Some broken fingers. Internal injuries due to being beaten with a blunt object, probably a pipe. Burns."

June squeezes her eyes shut. _Torture._ They tortured him.

"All things considered, he's a very lucky guy. Apparently he was found immediately after being shot, and some first aid was administered on-scene," the doctor recounts.

"Is he going to live?"

"He's not out of the woods yet, but I'm quite optimistic. He should be awake soon, if you want to see him."

"I do."

"Great. I'll have the nurses come and get you when he starts waking up."

"Thank you."

When the door closes after the doctor, June finally cries. _He could really make it._ If she hadn't lost faith in miracles a long time ago, she'd believe this to be one for sure.

***

"He's on a lot of pain meds, so don't be alarmed if he's groggy or doesn't make any sense."

June nods along eagerly. This is a chance she never thought she'd get.

They've raised the head of the bed a little, and Nick's eyes lock into hers as soon as she enters the room. The left side of his face is all bruise, his face is gaunt and there are a million machines around him, but he's awake and trying to smile at her.

"Hey," she says, pulling a chair closer to the bed.

"Hi. I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he says. His voice is raspy, but stable.

"I thought so too for a while, but somehow you're here," she replies, forcing down the tears that are threatening to resurface. _Ridiculous._

"I should be dead," he sighs, before reaching out to touch a strand of her short hair. "You look different," he murmurs.

"Yeah, I cut my hair. I used to keep it like this before, well, you obviously know what happened."

"It looks good."

"Thanks."

His hand falls back to his side and she stares at it, not knowing what to do. There's so much to say, and yet nowhere to start. There's so much she wants to ask, but it can all wait until he's better.

"Is... Is the baby all right?" he inquires.

"She's fine."

"It's a girl?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think that maybe... When she's born... That I could see her? At least once?" he asks, and when she raises her head to face him, she realizes he's crying. Without thinking, she takes hold of his hand and wipes her own eyes with her free arm. It probably hurts him, but he squeezes her hand back.

"Of course," she assures him. Somehow they're going to figure this all out.

"Thank you," he whispers.

They sit in silence for a while, and she tries to ignore the fact that he's caressing her hand with his thumb exactly the way he used to back in Gilead. 

"Waterford's dead," he suddenly says.

"He is? What happened?"

He tries to smile, but the pain makes it look more like a grimace.

"I killed him... He was arrogant. He made the mistake of coming to see me alone. I'm not sure why... We fought, I grabbed his gun and shot him three times. Once in the head."

June feels no remorse as a knot in her gut loosens and she shuts her eyes to revel in the feeling.

"He'll never hurt you or anyone else again. I promise," he finishes.

A part of her wishes she'd been the one to kill the bastard, but at least he's gone. The knowledge is her undoing, and she covers her face with her hands, no longer bothering to pretend. Although she's pretty sure Nick shouldn't be moving, he sits up and pulls her to him before leaning back. She falls asleep with her head against his shoulder, one of his hands in her hair, the other one holding hers.

 


	8. Retribution

Nick's side is on fire when he wakes up, but his leg is even worse. He looks down, convinced he's going to see nothing but a bloody stump in its stead, but no. His leg is still attached to his body, although covered by a thick layer of bandages from his groin to his ankle.

He thinks he may have been awake for a little while earlier. Or at least half awake, because he saw and talked to June. She told him that the baby was a girl.. It must've been a hallucination. Maybe caused by the pain killers, which he'd love some more of.

_How could she have found him?_

A nurse walks into the room, smiling brightly, a clipboard clutched in her arms.

"Good morning, Mr. Blaine. Good to see that you're awake."

"Morning," he grumbles, his throat dry.

"The doctor will be in shortly and if she gives me the all-clear, I can get you some breakfast afterwards."

"Sounds good," he replies, although he doesn't think he's going to be able to eat as long as his leg hurts this much.

"How do you know my name?" he asks.

The nurse frowns.

"I wasn't here when they brought you in, but if you didn't have ID on you, then a friend or a relative must've found you."

He nods, as if it makes sense. In reality he has none of those.

The doctor comes in and after seeing the strain in his face when she touches his leg, decides to up his intake of pain meds.

_Thank God._

She promises he'll walk again, but that it'll take extensive rehab and some time. He nods along, answering her questions.

_On a scale of 1-10, how much does his leg hurt when not touched? How about when she touches it? Does anything else hurt?_

They must think he's a refugee. Someone who deserves help. He should be dead. Or if not dead, then in prison. 

"Eat, drink and rest up, Mr. Blaine. I'll come and check in on you later."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"I'll fetch your breakfast," quips the nurse from the door.

The window blinds are open, revealing a sunny city view. There's so much out there, so much more than there was in Gilead. It feels almost surreal to be in Canada, as he didn't really have a plan beyond killing Waterford, and gave up even on that during his captivity.

When the door opens again, he expects to see the nurse returning with his food, but it's not her. It's June, her hair short, sporting a pair of black jeans and a blue sweater. He wasn't hallucinating, then. She really found him.

"Hi," she says.

"Hey."

"Are you feeling any better? You were a little out of it last night."

He chuckles, but stops when the laughing hurts his side.

"Not much. But they're saying I'll live."

She pulls up a chair and takes a seat next to his bed, giving him a chance to take a good look at her. It's so strange seeing her like this; well-groomed, wearing a bit of make-up, dressed the way she wants, instead of wearing what Waterford of Gilead made her wear. The rings on her left hand remind him of why things between them can no longer be what they used to. June has a husband, and he's just some guy who happened to be there. Somehow she's still there, sitting by his side, and he's grateful. 

"How have you been?" he inquires, clearing his throat. 

June opens her mouth, clearly about to give him the token _"fine"_ but stops in time. He's glad she does, as he doesn't have to be lied to.

"It's been... Hard. With Hannah, and everything else..."

"She doesn't remember you, then?"

"No. But the therapist is hopeful she will eventually get some of those memories back."

"That's good."

"I told Rita you're alive... She's probably going to stop by."

"Okay."

"You saved her."

He shrugs, not sure what to answer to that. 

"Didn't want to waste perfectly good ketamine," he finally replies, smirking.

June laughs, and he loves the sound, loves that it's him making her let it out.

"How did you find me, anyway?"

She bites into her lip, as if unsure how much she should say.

"I was having cramps, and I saw a doctor here. Moira and I were just leaving when I saw you in the ER. You were in pretty bad shape," she answers quietly.

He swallows. _Cramps?_

"But the baby's okay?"

She nods.

"Yeah, she's good. I can show you some ultrasound pictures if you want," she offers.

Nick tries not to nod too enthusiastically before she beams at him and reaches into her bag to pull them out. She ends up letting him have the pictures, assuring him that she's got more at home. _Home._ Another thing he doesn't have. But was the Waterford house really his home, either? If it doesn't count, then it's been a long time since he's had a home.

He's not sure how long she stays, but eventually he spies two figures in the hallway, behind the glass window of his room. A man and a woman. The man knocks on the glass, trying to get June's attention. _This must be her husband._ As stupid as it is, he can't help but be jealous. Silently he wonders how much this man knows about him, and about him and June.

June turns at the sound, waving at the man, before facing him again.

"That's your husband."

"Yeah, that's Luke."

"You should go."

"I'll be back tomorrow."

"Okay."

As he watches her walk away, he wonders how long it'll be until she leaves for good. 

 ***

June keeps her promise and comes back the next day. For a couple of weeks this is their routine. At first Luke would always show up to get her, but not anymore. Nick's not sure if it's a good or a bad sign. He flips the TV on, increasing the volume as the news program focuses on Gilead.

_The Committee will review the actions and possible crimes of all persons associated with the Republic of Gilead. Those found responsible will be prosecuted and brought to justice. We expect to hear from thousands of victims of the state during our investigations, and we ask for patience._

_Some have concerns that after the deaths of most of the commanders, nobody will be held responsible for their heinous crimes, but rest assured, the victims will get justice._

_We fully expect that most of the sentences will end up being longer than 25 years. In some cases the perpetrators will likely be viewed as dangers to the public, and we expect them to be denied parole long after those 25 years._

Suddenly he doesn't feel like finishing his dinner. It makes sense, and he's sort of been expecting something like this to happen, but still, it's not the same as actually hearing it. _They're coming for him. He's going to prison._ Possibly for life.

***

 When June approaches Nick's room that morning, something is amiss. A police officer is standing outside the room, nursing a cup of coffee. Frowning, she pushes past him.

"Why's there a police officer outside the room?" she asks without even stopping to greet Nick. 

"The Committee was here with the police last night, after you left," he explains, refusing to meet her eyes.

She's been following news on the arrests and investigations eagerly, as has everyone else in the refugee center, but she hasn't stopped to think that Nick would be among them, too. She's been an idiot. _Why wouldn't they investigate him?_ He was part of the machinery after all. Yet, the thought of Nick going to prison, being taken away from her again... _No, it can't happen, not after everything._ She hates Gilead with every fiber of her being, and logically speaking she should hate Nick, too, but she doesn't. 

"They arrested you? _What did you tell them?_ " she demands. 

"I told them the truth. Yes, I'm under arrest. For now, at least. They want to talk to witnesses, see if I'm worth prosecuting. Since most of the commanders are dead, they need to punish others."

"Yeah... People want justice. But... _You_ were in Mayday. You were a spy. I can talk to them."

Nick sighs, closing his eyes.

"I wasn’t a spy at first, June. I joined the Sons of Jacob because I needed a job to support myself and my family. Nobody forced me," he says, his voice almost too low for her to make out the words.

It's as if someone's just pulled the rug out from under her feet. Her anger flares, mixed with betrayal and disappointment. _How could he?_ For a few heartbeats neither one of them says anything. He doesn't elaborate, doesn't try to defend himself, and she's too angry to say anything. Possibly too angry to _ever_ say anything to him.

The slap lands on his cheek, accompanied by a loud smacking sound and a burning pain on her palm. She storms out of the room without looking back, and she's glad he still can't run after her.

***

“What’s bothering you today? You seem quiet," says Rita, stirring her tea.

“I found out yesterday that Nick joined them voluntarily.”

Rita sighs and nods. She doesn't seem surprised.

“Lots of people did. Matthew did, too... He believed they truly meant to make the world a better place. They had people search for desperate men who had little to lose. The younger ones were the easiest to convince. Matthew had a good heart, and they saw that, probably wouldn't have been able to manipulate him otherwise.”

"And you're okay with what he did?"

"Of course not. If he were alive, I'd smack that boy... And then I'd hug him and never let him go. You know why? Because even after all the crap they fed him, deep down he would've still been the boy I raised."

June nods. _Nothing quite like a mother's love._

"What are you going to do about Nick?" 

She hesitates, considering her answer. It'd be so easy to tell Rita that she never wants to see Nick again, doesn't care if he ends up in prison or not, and that Rita can go and relay all that to him if she wants to. 

"I don't know... But I know that he should've told me the truth earlier, not only after he'd been arrested."

Here's her chance to cut all ties with him, and focus on hating him for the rest of her life. A way to simplify her own life. If possible, things between her and Luke have been even messier since Nick's return. When Luke asked her why she kept going to see Nick every day, she couldn't give an answer, and eventually she claimed it was because of the baby. But even she knows it's not true, or at least not the whole truth.

"Well, for the baby's sake I suggest you figure things out... Speaking of arrests, did you see that Serena Joy's been arrested, too?"

"No, I didn't. When did that happen?"

Rita shrugs.

"A couple of days ago, maybe. I saw her name on a list. They're looking for witnesses, and I was thinking about going in tomorrow. You should come, too."

"Yeah."

If there's any way June can increase the odds of Serena Joy Waterford's sorry ass rotting in jail for the rest of her life, she's going to take it. 

***

At first Nick keeps hoping she'll rush in through the door, even if it is just to yell at him. After ten days that hope starts to fade. June's not coming back. _She hates him._ It's for the best, he tells himself. No little girl should have to visit their dad in prison, and he's not about to let that happen to his daughter. 

He remembers June's rage and hopelessness when Serena Joy isolated her, even stopped her from talking to him. When all he wanted to do was get rid of the partition.

_I'm here. I see you. I hear you._

It was never much, but it was something. Now he spends most of his days watching the same news reels come on over and over again. It gets old fast.

_Better get used to this, it'll be much worse in prison._

The nurses whisper about him. He hasn't been able to catch what they're saying, but he can get the gist of it. _Misogynist. Rapist._ His first physical therapist stopped treating him a couple of days after his arrest, once he told her that she couldn't take him out of the room because of the policeman posted outside his door. She didn't come back the next day.  The new physical therapist is more like a prison warden than a therapist. The guy barely speaks and usually just glares at him. He's still making progress in rehab, although he's not sure why he bothers anymore. It's not like a man who's been incarcerated for at least 25 years has much of a future anyway, so does it matter if he's a cripple?

For some reason Rita comes to see him every other day or so. He never asks her about June and she never tells him anything about her. Another silent pact. 

He picks up an ultrasound picture of his daughter sucking her thumb. There's nothing he has to give her, nothing of worth to contribute. A life full of failures and mistakes, some of them bigger than others. So many mistakes. And yet his daughter isn't one of them. She will never be a mistake to him, and despite everything he hopes June feels that way too.

He has no idea how to raise a child or how to be a father anyway, even without the threat of life sentence hanging over his head. Surely the best thing he can do is to leave her alone. He doesn't know Luke, but if June loves him, he can't be bad, as much as he resents the man. If his daughter survives, she'll be the only living person of his flesh and blood. Shouldn't he give her the best possible chance at a somewhat normal life?

"Good luck, kid," he murmurs to the grainy ultrasound photo, caressing the tiny figure. It's probably the last picture he'll ever have of her.

***

Another week passes by, and by then he's sunk into total apathy. He's lying on his side, facing away from the door when an orderly comes to pick up his uneaten breakfast, followed by a nurse who comes in with more medication.

"Still no appetite? Would you like me to open the blinds for you? So you could see outside?" asks the young orderly, her tone friendly.

"No, thank you."

"How about the TV? You want me to turn it on?"

"No, thanks."

"It's none of my business... But maybe you should call your girlfriend," suggests the nurse.

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Well, okay then. You should call your _friend_. You know, the blond who used to visit you every day. I'll get you the number, and you can use the phone on your table."

She lays a piece of paper on the tray table, and he turns to look at it once she's gone. What would he say to June? _I'm so sorry for being a dirtbag and for causing you to suffer for years, please forgive me?_ No. He's got to stay away from that phone until they haul him off to jail. _What's taking so long with that, anyway?_ He thought he told them everything they needed and that as someone with no family he'd be considered unlikely to fit in the society without trouble.

It takes three more days until he sees them again. The woman from the Committee who spoke to him shows up and stops to talk to the cop outside the door before they step inside.

 _This is it._ They're going to press charges.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Blaine. As you may guess, we've now reviewed the evidence of your time in Gilead and heard from a couple of witnesses. In co-operation with the Canadian government, we also took into consideration your chances of conforming into this society and being a productive member."

Nick holds his breath.

"The decision wasn't easy or unanimous, but eventually we concluded that charging you and continuing with the investigation would be a waste of our resources."

He can't believe what he's hearing.

"I'm _not_ going to prison?" he asks, uncertain he's getting it right.

"No, not unless you commit a crime here. But you remain a person of interest and we will be checking in on you from time to time. Think of it as probation. Stay out of trouble, Mr. Blaine. Good day,"

"Good day," he replies, watching as they retreat from the room. The cop doesn't stay behind. _He's free._

That only leaves him with the million dollar question: _what now?_  

 ***

Nick's almost asleep when the door slowly opens and she stands in the doorway. He's almost afraid to breathe, scared she'll change her mind if he says anything.

"Hey," he finally breathes.

June doesn't reply to his greeting and her hand lingers on the door handle.

"I want you to tell me everything. Right from the beginning," she says. It's not a request.

 


	9. Open Wound

Nick's not used to telling anyone his life story, but he figures there's nothing to lose by telling June everything. Sometimes he trails off when he reaches a part he knows is embarrassing. Like his pre-Gilead inability to hold down a job for more than a few months at best. But he keeps going, even if he can't stand to look her in the eye.

"As you know, it didn't get like that overnight."

"I remember."

"They had a justification for everything they did, an answer to every question that was going through my mind but that I never voiced. I should've seen where it was going a lot before I did, but I didn't. There wasn't anyone in my life who would've suffered for it... It's a terrible explanation, I know."

"And then one day I woke up and there we were. State-approved serial rapes. Strict code of conduct for everyone. Free will taken away. I decided it was best to play along no matter how I really felt because it was already too late to do anything about it. I could justify it to myself because my life was never that great to begin with. Selfish, I know. There's no way around it."

"I'm the one who found the first Offred, when she'd killed herself. I took her down, hoping I could somehow revive her, but she was gone... I never even knew her real name, but I always tried to be nice to her. She never confided in me. Of course I knew she wasn't happy, but I didn't... I didn't see how bad it really was for her."

"And then you became an Eye?"

"Yeah. It was a way to gain more power, no matter how insignificant, a means to more information I could use later, hopefully to make a difference."

"Did you join Mayday at the same time?"

"Almost... Let's say that they were more than happy to have an Eye on their side, but it took a while for them to trust me at all."

"I have to go," she says. He nods, feeling his throat constrict.

"Are you going to come back?" he asks, regretting the question immediately. He's revealing too much.

She stops, but doesn't turn back.

"I need time," she replies.

"Okay." It's the best he's going to get.

***

"Are you still going to see him?" asks Luke, walking into the bedroom where June sits on the mattress, folding Hannah's clean clothes. June wishes she could say that things have been less tense recently, but that would be a lie.

"Nick?"

"Yeah."

"Do I have to know that right now?"

"I have no idea what your plans are, June," he sighs, exasperated. "You don't tell me anything, but I know you stopped seeing him and I thought... I thought you'd chosen to move on. And then you were there yesterday after all, and now you're back to not knowing if he's going to be in the picture or not. I'd like to know if there's another person that we need to fit into this. If you're going to let him see the baby."  

"And would it be so bad if I did?"

Luke raises his hands in surrender.

"You make that choice, but legally speaking-"

"He's not going to sue me," she interrupts.

"You said you didn't even know him that well."

"I know enough."

"Forget I ever asked," he snaps.

June closes her eyes. _She's such a mess._ Keeping Nick in their lives would make everything more complicated, but he loves their daughter so much and she doesn't believe he'd ever do anything to harm her. _Shouldn't that surpass her own grudges?_ And if she can't forgive Nick, can she forgive Luke either? It still makes her blood boil to think of the way he behaved after the initial changes. As if none of it was all that big of a deal. _Nothing is a big deal until they come for you or the people you love._ If Luke deserves a new beginning, then so does Nick.

***

"When can I leave?" he asks the doctor. He hasn't seen June in three days, and although there's nothing he can do about it, he wants to get out now that he can move on his own, even if he still needs crutches on longer walks and gets winded after ridiculously short distances. 

"You are a refugee, aren't you Mr. Blaine?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Although he still wouldn't refer to himself as one if it wasn't what all his official documents said. 

"You got family who could take you in? Or friends? Someone who'd look after you until you get back on your feet? You're going to need some help at first if I discharge you soon."

Nick hesitates, taking a deep breath before answering.

"No, it's just me."

"Well, then I'm afraid you're going to have to stay for at least for another ten days or so. I don't feel comfortable letting you go out on your own."

"I could manage," he says confidently. 

The doctor chuckles, shaking her head at his insistence.

"I'm sure you could, but the answer's still no, Mr. Blaine."

Rita visits him later that day, bringing along a paper bag full of clothes.

"I figured you wouldn't have clothes, so I talked to my nephew. Leo's about the same size as you," she says, laying out a pair of jeans, a couple of t-shirts and a dark blue sweater on the chair in a neat pile.

"Thank you, Rita."

"Just paying a debt. What are you going to do when you get out?"

He shrugs.

"Try to get a job," he replies, as if he's totally new to unemployment, as if he expects something to come along. The truth is that there are tens of thousands of Gilead refugees in the Greater Toronto area, and there's no way there are going to be enough jobs for everyone. It might be better to head west, where it's less crowded. Or to Ottawa or Montreal. He realizes that moving to one of these places would make it impossible to be involved in his daughter's life, but it's time to be realistic. June may not want him around, and fighting her decision would be stupid. He's not going to hurt her any more than he already has.

"In what field?" asks Rita, forcing Nick out of his thoughts.

He shrugs again.

"Whatever's available," _and not illegal or otherwise shady_. "I'm not picky."

"What would you do if you could choose?"

He stops. It's a question nobody's asked him since high school.

"I don't know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, I'm helping a few others set up an organization that aims to help people from Gilead find their place here. Come and see us if you want to, we're opening next week," she tells him, holding out a business card.

_New Day for All_

"Thanks. This is a really good idea."

"I know, that's why we're doing it," grins Rita.

***

 "Did you see this, June?" asks Rita, pointing to a new advert on the bulletin board of the refugee center. The two of them have taken up a habit of getting together for coffee a few times a week, and helping out in the center at the same time. It's a good way to pass the time when Hannah's with her therapist. 

_Were you a Handmaid? Want to talk to others who went through the same? Come and join us! Mondays and Wednesdays 6-8 PM._

June shakes her head.

"No, I didn't," she murmurs quietly.

Her heart races. This could be what she's been looking for. A way out of this fog, with people who truly get her. She snaps a photo of the announcement on her phone.

"Planning on going?"

"Maybe."

"It sounds great. Almost as great as _New Day For All,"_ answers Rita, beaming.

June smiles back.

"True-" she trails off when her phone rings. It's Luke who says he's going to be doing overtime tonight and can't pick up Hannah. Shit. She was supposed to go and see Nick. Maybe...

"Would you mind watching Hannah tonight, Rita?"

"Sorry, I've got a meeting. Are you going to the hospital?"

She nods.

"Take her with you. It'd be good for Nick to see someone else besides the two of us, and he's going to be a dad anyway. He might as well get used to a kid hanging around." 

***

"Who are we going to see?" asks Hannah. She's never been to the hospital before. 

"His name's Nick, and he's the baby's daddy."

Hannah frowns.

"Is Nick a commander?"

"No!" June hisses, more forcefully than necessary, and regrets it the second she sees her daughter cower. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry I yelled. Look, he's not a commander, he's just an ordinary man who's been very sick, and you don't have to be scared of him, okay?"

Hannah nods gravely.

"Okay."

Nick is sitting on his bed when they enter the room, a magazine open on his lap.

"Hey," he says, doing a double take at seeing Hannah with her.

"Hi. Hannah, will you say hi to Nick?"

"Hi," says Hannah, waving at him shyly.

"Hi Hannah," he replies.

"See that chair over there, Hannah? Why don't you go and draw something?" suggests June.

"Luke had to work, and I couldn't get a babysitter," she explains to Nick when Hannah's immersed in her drawing.

"It's okay. I don't mind."

"Do you have any idea when they're letting you out?"

"Maybe next week. I hope. It gets boring here."

She nods, and swallows her desire to ask where he's going from the hospital. The baby delivers a swift kick on her ribs and her palm flies to the spot automatically.

"Ouch," she groans.

"What's wrong?" Nick asks, his eyes wide.

"She's just kicking real hard."

"Oh... Can you feel it from the outside?" he inquires.

Before June has time to consider her actions, she grabs his hand and places it to the right spot. There's another jab, and Nick grins so widely that she can't believe it's really the same serious, brooding Nick she's gotten to know.

"I felt her!" he exclaims.

"Yeah, that's her."

His smile fades as he notices her hand still resting on top of his on her belly. Yet he doesn't yank it away, meeting her eyes instead. She leans forward a fraction of an inch, and he does too, letting out a soft sigh. For a fleeting moment she thinks he's going to kiss her, but then his forehead presses against hers. Somehow the gesture feels more intimate than a kiss. 

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Mommy, Nick, look what I drew!" yelps Hannah, climbing on the bed. June jumps away from Nick as if burned.

Hannah hands over her drawing, but June can't see what's in it because all she can do is replay the word in her head. _Mommy._ It's the first time Hannah's called her that since they got her back.

"It's amazing, baby," she tells her, pulling the girl into a hug.

"You didn't even look at it!" accuses Hannah, giggling.

She didn't, and she still can't because her eyes are filled with tears.

"I'll have a look," says Nick, and she gives him the paper.

"This is good. Is this your mom?" he asks, pointing at a figure on the drawing.

"Yeah, that's her. That's me, that's my little sister, and then there's my daddy," she explains.

Nick nods.

"I see... You're very good at this," he tells her. 

Hannah beams.

"Thanks. Would you like a drawing too?"

"Uh... Sure."

Hannah returns to her crayons, but the atmosphere has changed. 

***

Luke's taken Hannah to the movies for the night, leaving her finally able to spend some time alone with Moira. They were supposed to go out, but June's back is killing her, so they're having nachos in front of the TV instead. For the last few days she's been trying to make sense of her own feelings alone, and now it may be time to get another person's input.

"What is it?" asks Moira, lounging on the couch of Luke's- _their_ apartment. "You've been chewing on your lip so hard all night that it's going to start bleeding any minute now."

"I'm not sure if I should tell you, to be honest."

"Why? I'm your best friend. There's nothing you can't tell me. Is this about Luke? You've been weird towards him ever since you came back."

"I don't know if our marriage is going to survive this, Moira," she finally admits.

"What do you mean? Of course it will! You can't let those bastards win, and if you let them break you and Luke apart, that's what happens. If you've got issues, sort them out."

_Is that really true? Does giving up on Luke mean she's letting Gilead win?_

"You two are made for each other, June. You told me to keep my shit together, and now I'm telling you the same thing. _Fucking persist_."

_If only things were that simple._

As she bites into her lower lip again, Moira's eyes suddenly narrow into slits.

"Please don't tell me you're starting to develop feelings for that guy in the hospital."

"His name's Nick, you know that."

"I don't care what his name is! They took our names away from us, and he didn't deserve to keep his either. Nothing good comes out of Gilead, especially the men."

She knows better than to argue with Moira on this, especially when this isn't about Nick. Well, not _really_ , anyway.

"He's the father of this baby, and wants to be involved."

Moira sighs.

"It's your decision, but I'd tell him no. Let her think Luke's her dad. That way you can save her from all that shit. This has Stockholm Syndrome written all over it."

"Moira-"

"I'm sorry, okay! It's just the way I see it. You're my best friend, and you don't get to destroy your life without hearing my opinion."

"So you want me to do what you do? Pretend like everything's just fucking peachy? He doesn't know me anymore, Moira! He wants a woman who doesn't exist anymore!" she yells, no longer caring if the neighbors hear. She made a mistake in assuming Moira would at least try to understand her, and it hurts. Maybe she really is fucking insane for even entertaining the idea of letting Luke go. For maybe wanting to kiss a man she once told herself was her enemy. For maybe falling for him. 

She faces Moira, and sees the tears in her eyes. She's gone too far.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" June tries, but it's too late.

"Oh, that's what you think I'm doing? _Really?_ Some nights I can't sleep because the moment I do, I see them. All those fucking assholes I was forced to be with. I see the other girls, the ways they used to cope with all that shit. So I sit in my bathroom, behind a locked door, listening to every sound in the building, afraid that somehow, someway, they'll find me and drag me back there. Want to know what's even worse? Not being able to sleep because I think I might just wake up back in that brothel, that all this has been a dream. Don't _ever_ tell me that I'm pretending to be okay. And do whatever you want with your life, but leaving Luke would be the biggest mistake you could ever make," Moira hisses before grabbing her jacket and stomping out.

 


	10. Rewritten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long, I haven't been feeling well recently! There's only one chapter (+ an epilogue) left after this one.

June figures it's best to leave Moira alone for a few days and then try apologizing again. Screw Luke and Nick, she'll be damned if she lets any of this take Moira from her. Going to the group meeting alone seems like a good place to start.

It's Monday night and she arrives at the refugee center with plenty of time before the meeting. As she makes her way to one of the smaller meeting rooms, she prays for answers and maybe some familiar faces, although that might be too much to hope for. _How is it that even after seeing the worst things other people and this world can offer, one can still hold onto hope?_

Inside the room she finds about a dozen women, and at first glance recognizes no one. It could be that none of them are wearing red dresses. As she takes a seat, the girl next to her turns and nods, offering a shy smile, which she returns in earnest. _Sisters._ Strangers but sisters.

The noise in the room grows as a few more people join in and only recedes when a middle-aged woman wearing a simple grey dress enters, closing the doors behind her.

"Good evening, everyone. Do we have any first-timers here tonight?" she asks, her voice emanating warmth and authority at the same time. If it wasn't for the unmistakable warmth, June might be reminded of Aunt Lydia. _Is she in prison as well?_

 June raises her hand along with a half dozen other women.

"Great. Welcome! My name is Donna, and I'm going to go through some of our basic principles before we start off. First of all, you don't have to share _anything_ you don't want to. And I'm not here to ask you questions, but to help out if you need me. _You_ ask the questions, and _you_ talk. If you want to, you can start off by introducing yourselves to the others."

When June's turn arrives, she isn't sure what to say. A couple of women have just told horrific, detailed stories of what happened to them. Dead babies. Literally chained by their commanders. It's enough to make anyone sick, but so far nobody has left the room.

"My name is June Osborne... Before it happened, I was married, and we had a little girl. We tried to get out, and they took my daughter. I also thought they killed my husband. I served in two households. It didn't work out in the first one, so they sent me to another... To the Waterfords. Fred Waterford is- was- the cruelest man I've ever met. His wife is a bitch. The first Offred killed herself to get away from them. At times I thought about doing the same thing. Yet I didn't... I found someone. It's not easy to explain because good things just didn't happen in Gilead, right?" she explains. "I got pregnant, but not with the Commander's child. Soon after that I got away... I've been here for nearly three months now. I live with my husband and our daughter. And yet I have no idea who I am anymore," she finishes.

She receives nods of encouragement and understanding. Someone gets it. _Finally_ someone gets her.

***

Little by little June crawls out of the hole. The weather's now warm enough, Hannah talks about Gilead less and less every day, and she's it nearly as angry as she used to be. At Luke. Or at Nick. People make mistakes, and often end up paying for them. She's never really believed in the concept of "The One", that there's only one person for everybody. Now her faith in it is all but gone.

She could love Nick, but there's some truth to what Moira said during their argument. She and Luke share a history, so many years of happiness. It can never be the same, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't do everything she can to salvage what can still be salvaged. It's not as if she's been willing to go into detail on her feelings for Nick in the group meetings, but she knows it's okay. What she feels is okay. They wouldn't judge her, and they may be the only ones. So it's all right for her to acknowledge that she has feelings for him, at least in her own head. Feelings that she may never be able to truly dissect or define. If she's going to make her marriage work, the less she thinks about them, the better. 

There was a time when she didn't have many choices, but now it's more obvious than ever that life, _real life_ , is all about choices. Whether you decide to follow a certain path or not. 

She volunteers at the refugee center twice a week. It's good to get out of the apartment and have some time for herself. Usually she helps sort the donations. There's so much... Women's clothes, men's clothes, children's clothes, shoes, shampoo, soap, snacks, toothbrushes, combs, toys, you name it. Some of the donation boxes and bags have notes in them that make her tear up at the kindness of people. There is absolute evil in this world, but there's also good, and every day she remembers that a little better.

The donations are sorted into women and children's items and men's items and taken into separate storage rooms. Some of the other volunteer women are skittish around men, so they work on opposite sides of the room. Nick's there on most of the same nights as she is, quietly carrying box after box to the men's storage room. When she needs a break, she watches him at times, registering his disinterest in the clothes while the other volunteer men loot the donations for the best items at the first possible chance they get.

She never takes anything either, but then again, she has all she needs, as do her children. That's not the case with Nick. He must've carried the Waterfords' possessions for years looking exactly like that. Present, but still somehow in another world. Doing his part passively. She can't help but wonder if he misses Gilead in some twisted way.

Later as they sit down for coffee, she once again feels the eyes of the other women on them. They always seem to stare, which is why she'd rather go outside the center. 

"How's the job hunt going?" she asks.

"Nothing new."

June nods. It's not something he wants to talk about, but she knows it depresses him. It would probably depress just about anyone. She doesn't need a job currently, but even when she does she believes it won't be too hard to find something. The subsidies and deductions for employers hiring mothers or fertile women are good. 

Nick stares into his coffee, avoiding her gaze, while she fights the urge to take his hand, to assure him that it'll be okay, that he'll find a place here. If only she could be so sure of that herself. She didn't think herself capable of feeling sorry for any man after what she's been through, but it's hard with Nick, even though he doesn't want her pity.

 ***

Nick's never actually been to a homeless shelter, but he assumes this is a lot like one. Ten men in the same room with just a bunk bed for each. As happy as he is to be rid of Gilead for good, he can't help but miss his own quarters. _Space to think_. But reality is what it is, and he's grateful he's not wearing an orange jumpsuit and can leave the building anytime he wants to.

With the Sons of Jacob there had been a certain sense of belonging to something, especially after the deaths of his dad and brother. Not that he'd felt that way in years, but at the beginning he did. Now he's an outsider, all the men around him are whether they realize it or not. _How many would be lost to the bottle or turn to crime?_

When there's so little space and privacy, it's no wonder that fights are common. He does his best to stay out of trouble, but one morning he wakes up to find a stranger digging through the pockets of his jeans. At first he's so stunned he doesn't react, but when the man pulls out the ultrasound pictures of his daughter and, crumples them before dropping them unceremoniously on the ground, he loses it. He doesn't say anything as he pushes the man against the wall and punches him. The stranger is sluggish, probably thanks to consuming some stolen booze, but he fights back. 

He doesn't have a phone, but they have some communal computers that he can use to check his email. The only emails he gets are rejections from employers... And then some from June. She comes to see him at the refugee center, and they see each other on her volunteer nights, but he never shows her where he lives. They sit in the communal area, maybe take a walk around the block. At night he tries not to think that if something happens to her, or to their baby, that there's no way to reach him on time.

 _She is not alone,_ he tells himself.

Sometimes he insists they get coffee somewhere else, and she never lets him pay. He hasn't touched her belly since the time at the hospital. It feels weird to ask that now, when there used to be a time that he didn't even think twice before doing it. And she hasn't offered him the chance either. Maybe because she knows he wanted to kiss her then, that he almost did. Things have been different since then. Even though he still gets to see her, he can feel the distance between them growing.   June is happier these days. She smiles more, and a couple of time she's even dragged him to a store with baby clothes, a grin on her face. He's happy she's better, but at the same time he wonders how exactly he's supposed to fit into her life, or the baby's for that matter. If maybe it'd be better for him to skip town and disappear. He knows his jealousy is petty and selfish, but he's never claimed not to be either one of those things. She should be happy, regardless of how he feels about her.

The job search is going as well as he assumed it would. Too many male applicants with little to no education or work experience, and too few non-demanding jobs. Some people don't want to employ a man from Gilead. As he kicks an empty soda can out of sheer frustration after yet another failed interview, he wonders how he'd feel in their position. If he had a business and a family and then had to interview dozens of men who had been part of Gilead. He'd be pretty hesitant to hire someone like himself, too.

He hasn't been to Rita's office. Or seen her at all since leaving the hospital. However, he still has the business card and decides to check it out, if only out of curiosity.The office is packed, and every once in a while a woman comes out of one of the little offices and calls out a name. One by one he reception area is cleared of customers, and he feels more exposed as he feels the eyes of the receptionist on him.

"Can I help you?" She asks, her tone friendly.

"No.... I don't have an appointment or anything," he mumbles back hesitantly.

"Nick! I was wondering when I'd see you here!" Greets Rita, coming out of a side office.

"I just happened to be in the area," he replies.

Rita rolls her eyes.

"Sure. Come on, let's talk, someone cancelled their appointment so I have an opening."

Somewhat reluctantly he follows her into the tiny room. Rita takes a seat behind the desk and motions to the other chair.

"So... No luck with the job search yet, then?" She asks.

Of course, straight to business. He chuckles at her straightforwardness.

"No."

"You still don't know what you want." It's not a question.

"It's never seemed to matter much."

"You'll be more motivated once you figure that out. Let's see if I can give you a hand... What kind of work did you like the most in Gilead? And don't you dare shrug at me or give me that token 'I don't know'. _Think_ ," she orders.

She says nothing as he tries to think of an answer. He knows the tasks he hated the most; protecting a rapist and covering for him, leaving him with June, and the ones he liked best; driving June around and watching her as she came and went. But none of that is helpful now. He thinks back to the cars, and sees potential.

"The cars. I liked fixing them."

"Excellent! Have you applied for any mechanic positions?"

"A couple."

"Well, for the next two weeks, try to focus on them. I'll print you a list of open positions."

"Okay."

"And... You should consider taking some classes. Some of them can be taken online," she instructs, handing over a stack of different brochures.

_Mechanical engineering._

He whistles."Sounds fancy."

"You're smart enough for that. If that's what you're interested in, you should go for it."

"I'll think about it. Thanks, Rita."

"Thank me when you get a job."

***

He helps out with the donations again that night, with June working on the other side of the room. As he steals a glance at her, he catches her looking back, a frown appearing as soon as she spots his black eye. She strides to his side, a determined look in her eyes.

"What happened?" she asks, her hands on her hips.

Nick shrugs.

"Had a disagreement with someone."

"Here?"

"Yeah."

She nods, and he can only imagine what she's thinking. _Violent people shouldn't be around kids._

"He tried to steal from me," he explains, as if it makes it okay.

"Okay."

"Not that there's much to steal."

"You don't have to explain this to me, Nick. I know what people are capable of."

He nods. She most definitely does.

"Would you mind helping me out with some of the boxes? They're pretty heavy."

"Sure."

As strange as it is, he's glad she changed the subject. 

The other volunteer women stare at him as he passes them. They're probably scared, so he tries not to look back. 

***

Nick skips volunteering one night, and immediately it makes her worry. What if things got out of hand with another man in the center again? Nevertheless, when she asks around, one of the male volunteers offers that he saw Nick at breakfast and that he was fine. After the worry comes anger, as if he's standing her up, although it's not like this is a date. _Unlike the dinner she's agreed to have with Luke._  Nick has his own life and can do whatever he wants. As she sorts through some shoes, she plans on emailing him later. Suddenly a hand lands on her shoulder, the touch familiar and light.

"Hey," says Nick.

She spins around to face him.

"Hey. Where have you been?" she asks.

"Job interview," he replies, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely controlled glee. 

"You got a job," she beams at him.

"Yeah, kind of. I'll be on probation for the first month, but it's something."

"Congratulations. What's the job?"

"Car mechanic."

She raises her brows. It makes a lot of sense.

"Wow, that sounds promising."

"So, uh... Will you be here tomorrow night? I'm starting work then, but we could go out for coffee after," he suggests.

She bites her lip. _Well, shit._

"No, sorry, I've got plans for tomorrow," she replies.

"Okay. Another time then, maybe."

"Sure. I'm actually going out with Luke... It's a date, I guess."

She has no idea why she's telling him this. Maybe it's to get a reaction out of him. To get him to tell her what he wants. But if that's what she's expecting, she's left disappointed because he merely nods, his expression neutral, his true emotions well hidden as usual.

"Enjoy your night out," he says, his voice steady.

***

She hasn't spent much time alone with Luke since getting out, and this is all part of trying to rebuild her life. Give them a chance. Moira might be right after all. Maybe she owes this to all the years she's spent with Luke, and to Hannah as well. So she puts on a dress, styles her hair and applies makeup. She doesn't really feel like going out, as her back is killing her, but this is a special occasion.

Moira's sitting on the couch when she leaves the bedroom, and shows her the thumbs-up sign, smiling . "Nice one," she mouths approvingly.

June sticks her tongue out at her.

"Have fun, and don't worry about Hannah, we'll have a great time with her board games."

"Thank you so much for doing this," June says, stopping to hug her friend.

***

"It's so great to see you smile again," Luke sighs happily as they peer at their menus.

She returns the smile.

"I feel a lot better now, after I found the group."

He nods. "You also spend a lot of time at the refugee center."

June's eyes narrow."What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, going for a casual tone.

"Nothing. I'm just wondering if you see Nick often."

"Sometimes. He volunteers, too."

"Hhmmm... Of course he does," he grumbles, rolling eyes slightly.

"I'm sure you didn't bring me here to discuss Nick."

"No, but I'm trying to figure out where I stand with you. You're my wife, so I think I have a right to know."

"Nothing's happened. Not since I came here."

"Okay. I believe you. But can you promise me that nothing ever will happen? Even if he stays in our lives because of the baby."

"I meant it when I said I really wanted to try to work things out with you. I'm committed to this. To you, to our family. I thought that was what you wanted."

"It is, but I want to be able to trust you."

"You really think I'd fuck Nick behind your back? You think I could disrespect you like that?"

"I've done that myself."

"Yeah, you have. I haven't and never will."

"Okay, fine. Tell me you don't love him, and I'll let this go."

He's serious.

"Luke... I don't know... I don't know anything anymore. I'm here because I want this to work out," she sighs, swallowing the bitter tears threatening to spill out.

"So you can't tell me you don't love him."

She shakes her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Me, too, June. I can't... I can't live like this, you know. I need that certainty."

"It's not enough to know that I love you, that I'll always love you?"

"Sorry, no."

"Well, I guess this is it, then."

"Yeah, I guess."

They sit in silence, the mood now somber. She no longer has an appetite. Hopefully one day they'll be able to think back to this and decide this really was the right thing to do, but now it feels like her life's just getting messier. They part ways without eating, agreeing to talk in the morning. There are so many things to work out. _Custody arrangements. Living arrangements. Divorce papers_. All things she never wanted to face, and she doubts Luke did either.

He goes to relieve Moira, but she's not ready to go back to the apartment yet, and ends up at the refugee center. Only then does she take a look at the time. It's getting late and Nick might be asleep, but she's got to try. The place is mostly dark, but the lights are on in the computer room. She sticks her head inside, hoping to find someone who could direct her to Nick's dormitory, but instead finds the man himself hunched over one of the machines.

"Hey," she greets, her voice raspy from crying.

He turns around, startled.

"Hey," he replies softly, standing up.

Right at that moment she knows what she wants, what she _needs_ , and somehow he seems to know it, too, as he says nothing when she walks up to him. He gets the hint and wraps his arms around her, his head landing on top of hers. Her world's been turned upside down again, but just like all those months ago in Gilead, in Nick's arms she finds a short reprieve from the craziness of her life.

***

Hours later she lies on the couch of Luke's apartment, feeling more reassured than before. Luke's a good man and will make some woman very happy, but it can't be her anymore. They both know that now. There's no telling what the future will bring for her and her daughters, but this is a step in the right direction.

Sighing, she picks up her phone.

_You awake?_

As she guessed, Moira hits her back immediately.

_Of course. I'm always awake, June._

There's no way June wants to talk to her about this in a text, so she lifts the phone to her ear.

"Hey," answers Moira.

"Hi."

"What's up? Luke didn't tell me much."

"We're separating."

"Shit," sighs Moira.

"He's actually the one who brought it up first. It's good... I'm not sure if I would've been able to do it myself. I think this is the right thing to do."

"Okay."

"So... Ummm. Can Hannah and I stay with you for a while? You know, until we find a place of our own."

"You should know the answer."

"Thank you."

"Always. Always and forever. You know that, right?"

"I do."


	11. Roadmap

Nick and Moira help June and Hannah move their stuff to Moira's apartment. They know it's going to becramped once the baby's born, but right now it's what they need. All of them. Moira hasn't mentioned it, but June thinks it's good for her, too. Not having to be alone anymore. 

The moving process itself is rather painless in practice. Nick's good at reading people and knows to stay out of Moira's way without anyone having to tell him that. June bites her tongue at times when she sees her best friend glaring at him. _He didn't hurt you._ But she knows it wouldn't make a difference. It's best to let things be, and maybe eventually Moira will soften up. 

She was scared of how their separation would affect Hannah, especially now that she's only just gotten used to her new surroundings, but the therapist assured her that children are adaptable and that as long as she and Luke deal with the divorce well, Hannah will be all right. So far that's held true. 

"Do you want me to help unpack?" asks Nick, panting in front of her after lugging in three more boxes of toys, dishes and clothes. 

"No, thanks. We'll be fine. You have someplace to be?"

"No. I just don't think your friend wants me here. I don't want to overstay my welcome," he sighs, using his sleeve to wipe sweat from his forehead. It wasn't until June met Nick that she realized how sexy sweaty and dirty men could be. She absolutely needs to visit Nick at his place of work. She swallows the lust, shaking her head to clear her mind.

"Don't take it personally. She's got a problem with every single guy from Gilead."

Nick nods understandingly.

"I get it. Do you think-" he tries, but stops himself as Moira comes in through the door, carrying a potted plant.

"Do I think what?"

"If that's how she feels, then it's probably better if we meet somewhere else besides here, right?" he finishes quietly, his eyes following Moira's retreating back as she goes back to the van downstairs to pick up the last bags.

He has a point, but June's not willing to give in. The baby's getting so big that she feels worn out and lazy most of the time. The thought of having to meet in places where she can't get her feet up makes her exhausted.

"I'll talk to her about it."

"You'll call me when you know?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Have a good night," he replies before waving her goodbye. 

At least she has a way of contacting Nick now, even if it's in the middle of the night. Now that she no longer has to feel guilty, she allows her thoughts to wonder at night. Remember what it was like having Nick beside her in bed, watch the thick, dark lashes fan his cheeks as he slept. The way he'd reach for her in the darkness, sometimes for a mere kiss, sometimes for more. How she'd sometimes wake up to his lips on her thigh, tenderly kissing his way up, giving her time to wake up before doing anything. The way he looked at her body unlike anyone else in that horrible place. Like it was beautiful, and worthy, and good for more than just childbearing. 

 ***

She hasn't been to the group meetings as often as usual in the last few weeks, but that Wednesday night she decides to go. There's still healing to be done, and stories to both hear and tell. As she looks around the now familiar room, most of the faces she sees are the same ones as when she was there the last time, but there's a new brunette sitting in the back corner. Although June can't see her face, she knows who it is. It's like seeing another ghost, but after Nick's return, she's began to believe that almost anything can happen.

"E- Emily? Is that you?" she inquires carefully, hoping she hasn't lost her mind.

The girl lifts her face and June gasps. It really is her.

"Hey. Offred- no," she interrupts herself, shaking her head. "That's not your name. I never caught it."

"It's June."

"Great to see you, June."

"You, too. I- I didn't think you'd survive after the car incident."

Emily smirks.

"Neither did I, and I actually hoping I wouldn't. After what they'd already done to me... I didn't want to go on. I was counting on them killing me after that, but they sent me to the Colonies instead. I guess they were going for a slow death."

"How- what was it like?"

"There were better jobs, and worse ones. I wasn't put in the most dangerous positions. There was still some... Damage, but I was still alive when Mayday came for me," she finishes, her voice trailing off. 

 June finds herself at a loss for words. It's hardly the first time, not with what she's heard Moira tell, but it never fails to stop her anger and make her fists clench involuntarily. 

"What about your family? Did you find them?" she asks, clearing her throat.

 Emily nods.

 "Yeah... Oliver's amazing, he spends every other week with me. He's the reason I get up every morning, no matter how I might be feeling otherwise."

 "So you and your wife didn't get back-"

 "She found someone else while I was gone."

 "I'm sorry."

 She shakes her head.

 "Don't be, it's not like I was faithful either."

 "But it was different!"

 "It was, but I'd still be a hypocrite if I blamed her for something I did, too. Anyway... Life goes on. They've been able to fix some of the damage they did to me back in Gilead, but I'm going to need another surgery. For the first time in years, I feel like there's a little bit of hope."

June nods. Aside from Moira, this girl has to be the strongest person she's ever had the privilege of knowing. 

"How about you, June?" asks Emily, nodding at her belly.

She puts a protective hand over her daughter, knowing what Emily's got to be thinking.

"She's not Waterford's. I... I got my oldest daughter back, and found my husband, but it didn't work out."

"Did he have someone else, too?"

"No. I did, back in Gilead, but that's only part of the reason things didn't work out anymore. He didn't know me anymore, and I didn't know him."

Emily nods gravely.

"Bet it's happened to others, too," she answers.

"Probably."

"So, is the baby's father in the picture?"

"Yeah, he is. He's a mechanic."

"Oh. He's the Eye from your house."

"Yeah, but he was also in Mayday."

"That's huge."

June sighs.

"I know."

"You sure you can trust him now?"

"Yeah... I mean, I'm not rushing into anything with him, but I think he lo- cares about me. And he loves the baby." 

"I'm happy for you, then."

"Thank you. If you want to, you could come and visit our place. Me and Hannah are staying with a friend."

"I'd like that."

June leaves the meeting with a new spring in her step. Feeling the need to see Nick while she's at the refugee center, she calls him. He comes down within minutes, his hair damp from a post-work shower. _Yummy._

"Hey," she says.

"Hi. Something good happen?"

"Yeah. Saw another friend who I believed to be dead, but she's not. She's here." It's weird to refer to Nick as a friend, but she couldn't think of a better label.

He nods.

"Good." His eyes are fixed on her hands, roaming over her belly. The baby's being very active.

"Do you want to feel her?" she asks, suddenly aware of the fact that he's been deprived of the chance for a while, ever since that one time at the hospital.

"Sure."

They find a couch to sit down on, and she sets his hands on the right places. His breath hitches every time there's movement under his hands. He turns to look at her hungrily, saying nothing, but somehow she knows what he wants, so she nods. He gets down onto the floor until his head's on the same level as her belly and leans in, sighing.

The familiarity of the gesture nearly breaks her. His lips skim the sweater covering their daughter and he lifts his eyes to meet hers. It's that moment that she knows everything. The truth is absolutely fucking terrifying and relieving at the same time. She's hopelessly lost, and so is he, but saying anything would break the moment, so she grasps his wrist with her other hand and reaches to run her hands through his black locks with the other one, allowing him to press his cheek against her belly.

Later, he insists on walking her back to the apartment, but she doesn't mind, especially when his open palm hovers between them and she takes it, lacing her fingers through his. There's a long way to go, but she has a roadmap now.

***

Over the next few weeks, Nick tries his best to find an apartment. It's going to have to be a small one, but anything would be an improvement over the refugee center. Somewhere June, the baby and Hannah can visit him. Where he doesn't have to feel like a cockroach under the watchful eyes of Moira. He gets it, he really does, but it makes things awkward. And there's no way he's missed out on Moira's glowing words about Luke. He'll never be able to measure up to that guy, will he?

Nothing's happened between him and June, but at least he gets to touch her anytime he wants to now. He wonders if she can tell how much more he wants from her.

That night he's planning on assembling the baby'scrib at June and Moira's. It's getting close to the due date, and he figures the thing has to be there when the baby comes home from the hospital. What he's most proud of is that he's the one who paid for the crib, that he's been able to contribute, even if it's not much.

"What are you doing?" asks Hannah, eyeing the wooden parts with genuine interest.

"This is going to be the baby's bed."

"Cool. Can I help?"

"Sure. You can... You can hold these screws for me, if you want to," he suggests, still a little uncertain about how to talk to the girl. He finds June looking at them from behind the kitchen aisle, a smile on her face. He returns it briefly.

"Like this?" 

"Yeah, just like that."

He likes times like this when it's just him, June and Hannah in the apartment. Moira often stays at work late, but tonight she's been out on a date, according to June. 

As he finishes the crib, Moira waltzes in. _Time to go._ He starts to pull his jacket on as the two women chat in the kitchen, only a few feet away.

"How did it go?" June asks.

"You have no idea... Sometimes you have the best ideas, June."

"Only sometimes?"

"Okay, okay. Anyway, I think something could really come out of this... She's great."

"I know."

"Is Nick still here?" asks Moira, and he stops. This is probably the first time he's ever heard her address him by his name.

"Yeah. Nick?"

"Right here," he replies.

"You're a car mechanic, right?" 

He nods, wondering where this is going.

"Well, my car is an old piece of shit and it overheats all the time. Could you have a look at it? Doesn't have to be now."

He's almost too stunned to answer. Moira's asking something _from him_.

"Uh," he starts, clearing his throat. "Of course. Anytime."

"Thanks," replies Moira, suddenly holding her hand out for him to shake. June's covered her mouth with her hands, but he can tell she's either laughing or crying, or possibly both. 

He takes the hand.

"I guess you're not all bad," murmurs Moira, offering him an actual smile.

Nick has no idea how to respond to that, but fortunately June steps in, laying a hand on his chest before muttering something unintelligible to her friend. He catches Moira's eyeroll, but she backs out into the living room and fakes an interest in the crib.

For a second he thinks June's going to kiss him, but instead she wraps him into a hug. 

"I knew she'd come around," she whispers into his ear.

He returns her enthusiastic grin. 

***

There are times when your feelings threaten to overwhelm you, and this is one of those times for June. Luckily this is all about good feelings. How much she loves Moira. _How much she loves Nick_. Patient, sweet, gentle Nick who still manages to make her want to drag him into her bedroom. He's not perfect, but after what she's gone through, she's broken, and he's broken too, in much of the same ways. When you have two kids to think about, you can't throw yourself into anything without thinking it through at least a million times, but that doesn't mean they can't take a few steps forward, does it?

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asks all of a sudden, frowning.  “Not tonight, but tomorrow, or some other night. Your pick," he blabbers, and that's how she knows he didn't plan on asking her tonight.

She can’t stop herself from grinning. He’s so very nervous… And it’s actually pretty damn endearing.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great. I can come here tomorrow after work, pick you up.”

“Sounds good.”

“Goodnight, then,” he says, backing out of their tiny foyer and into the stairwell.

She follows him, closing the door behind her. She doesn’t have her keys, but Moira will let her back in.

“Nick, wait,” she calls out as he turns to leave.

“What?” he asks before she grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and crushes her mouth to his.

His shock is shortlived and the way he kisses her back makes her body tingle all over. What starts out as tentative and sweet turns into uncontrollable and possessive, even desperate. Like their kiss outside her room in the Waterford house. 

Nick's hands settle on her now non-existent waistline. He gasps into her mouth as their daughter kicks his palm.

Finally they come up for air, and she lets her head rest against his chest.

“Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, pulling away reluctantly.

“Looking forward to it,” he replies, giving her a wink.

June rings the doorbell and Moira opens the door, her brows raised so high they practically disappear into her hairline.

“I was starting to think you were going to give the neighbors a show,” she jokes.

June sticks her tongue out.

“I was actually about to ask if you could watch Hannah tomorrow night, and maybe… Not be in here until I text you.”

Moira rolls her eyes, but she’s not actually upset. This is her being an annoying best friend.

“Let me get this straight: you want me to look after your kid, so that you can get laid.”

“Yeah, pretty much," June admits.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Thanks, Moira. _Really_.”

“But you’d better enjoy this one, because I’m not going to babysit Hannah _and_ a newborn.”

June laughs.

“We’ll see.”

“You’re in love with that guy, aren’t you?”

She shrugs, still smirking.

“You totally are,” grins Moira.

She is, but she wants him to hear it before admitting it out loud to her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think Moira went out with? Stay tuned for the epilogue ;)


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support this fic's gotten over the last few months :)

_Ten months later..._

 

It's not the first (and won't be the last) night that a scream pierces the air in their small apartment. Sometimes it's June herself screaming, but that night it's Nick. She reaches over and shakes him gently.

"Nick! You're fine. Everything's fine," she assures him, counting the seconds until the baby will inevitably start crying. It happens like clockwork, Clara's panicked wails now taking over that her father's sitting on the bed quietly, trying to catch his breath.

"Sorry," he mutters as she stands up to pick up their daughter.

She shakes her head at him. He knows he doesn't have to apologize for his nightmares. She never does for hers.

"Let me take her," he continues, coming to stand behind her beside the crib.

"See, Sweetie, everything's okay. Daddy's fine, too," she coos at Clara, handing her over to Nick. Her little face is wet with tears, but it doesn't take long for her to calm down. Clara's not like her sister in temperament; she's more quiet and often prefers watching people instead of actively participating. June guesses she's inherited these traits from Nick. 

"Daddy's so sorry," he whispers against the baby's head.

Then there's the sound June's been expecting. Light footsteps right outside the door.

"Is Nick okay?" asks Hannah timidly, pushing the door open to peer inside.

"He's fine, honey."

"I'm sorry I woke you, Hannah," he says.

"It's okay... Can I come and sleep with you?" she asks quietly, giving the door another little shove.

"Of course. You know you can always come here if you're scared," June assures her.

Hannah climbs into bed beside her, a teddy bear tucked in the crook of her arm.

Nick places the baby back in her crib before returning to bed. June scoots closer, needing to feel his body heat near her. He reaches for her hand, closing his larger one over it. She knows what he's saying. _I love you._ June squeezes back, once again unable to believe where she's ended up, both terrified and excited for the morning to come.

***

In the morning, Nick watches as June's hands shake when she tries to brush Hannah's hair, get the girl ready for school. It's not working out well. Unfortunately, at his best he's even worse than a nervous June, but he still reaches for her wrist gently.

"I can do this," he tells her.

"Thank you," she smiles at him tensely.

She has every right to be nervous, and he can't say he doesn't feel that way, too. It's the day when Serena Joy Waterford (among others) will hear her sentence. He doesn't think there's any way they'll let the woman walk, but clearly it is June's biggest fear. 

"Ouch," says Hannah when he accidentally pulls on her hair.

"Sorry. I'm not good at this..." he sighs. "It's just that your mom's a little nervous."

"I know. It's okay. I can do it myself, you know?"

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"All right. I'll be in the kitchen, let me know if you need help," he replies.

"You make the worst braids in the universe!" giggles Hannah, and he can't help but grin back. He ruffles the girl's hair, earning a groan and a playful swat from her before leaving the bathroom to check on June and Clara.

They're not faring much better; half of Clara's breakfast seems to be on the floor.

"Shit," mutters June, and again he sees how her hand shakes as she tries to shove the spoon in the baby's mouth and Clara turns her head away, the mashed whatever landing on June's pants instead.

"I can't believe I'm letting her get to me like this," she sighs. 

"Come here," he says, hoping she'll let him comfort her. 

She lifts her eyes from the baby and her expression changes. Time and time again he's seen how much she hates crying in front of the kids, but today's just one day. It's just one morning, actually.

Her hands clutch at his shirt and she lets out the tears she's obviously been holding. He holds on tighter, not telling her what he's thinking because it sounds ridiculous but he means in nevertheless. _She will never touch any of you. I will always keep you safe._

"It'll be over after today," he says.

She shakes her head.

"What if... What if they let her out? And don't tell me they won't! It could happen."

"Then we can file for a restraining order," he tries, knowing there's no convincing June when she gets like this.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again if she gets out... Knowing she's out there, probably thinking about taking my baby."

Anger wells up in his chest. He would literally rather kill Serena Joy than let her anywhere near his daughter.

"She will never come anywhere near Clara," he swears.

June nods, knowing what he's thinking. Suddenly her lips are on his, desperate and demanding, seeking reassurance he won't be able to provide.

"No matter what happens, we'll still come home tonight. We'll still be together," he says, pulling away. She nods back at him. Sometimes they both need this to be said aloud. _Reality check._

"Could you finish feeding Clara? I need to change my pants," she sighs.

"Sure."

***

Ever since finding out the sentencing date, June's been swearing to herself that it'll be the last day she ever sacrifices a single thought to Serena Joy Waterford, and now that the day has come, she's afraid she'll never shake the shadow of the evil blonde from her life. _Damn that bitch. Damn her to hell._

Drawing in a deep breath, she focuses on the trio beside her in the subway car. Hannah humming some pop song she heard on the radio earlier, her legs swinging happily up and down. Nick with Clara strapped to his front in her carrier, her tiny hand holding onto a handful of his sweater. June would kill for all of them, but sometimes she thinks they deserve better than a mother and a partner who still sometimes loses it over something as small as a sound or a smell. _Give yourself time_ , that's what everyone tells her. They mean well, but on some days she feels as if she's stagnating. Everyone else is moving on, or at least it seems to. Rita's met a man, a Canadian baker. Moira and Emily are living together, and she rarely sees either one without a smile on her face. At the same time she still wakes up the entire household at least twice a week. _What if seeing Serena Joy get locked up for the rest of her life doesn't offer her he reprieve she seeks? What if she makes her entire family suffer for the rest of their lives? What if this gets worse? Or what if Serena Joy walks free?_

Her breathing quickens, and she feels Nick's thumb pressing on her pulse point. _A lifeline._ She focuses on his serious face, the concern in his eyes, the mouth she sees on both him and their daughter every day. Eventually her heart slows down.

They drop off Hannah in her schoolyard, where she runs off to her friends with no care in the world. 

"Thank you for coming with me today," she tells Nick when it's just them and Clara left.

"Wouldn't have missed it for anything," he answers, leaning in to kiss her.

It's a surreal experience to see Serena Joy in an orange jumpsuit. There's nothing left of the woman who once upon a time looked so impeccable and unreachable. Now she's nothing more but one prisoner among others.  _How the mighty have fallen._

Her turn comes right after lunch break. 

"Will Serena Joy Waterford please stand?" asks the judge.

Serena Joy stands up, her eyes betraying nothing. June's nails dig into her palm. Clara swats at her playfully, unaware of the tension and she turns to give the baby a smile. Nick is staring straight ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. 

"Ms. Waterford, you have been found guilty of at least ten counts of assault, accessory to multiple rapes as well as conspiracy to take down the legitimate government of the United States of America. For these crimes, the appropriate sentence is found to be life in prison with no opportunity for parole."

A relieved laugh escapes June, as she feels the burden on her shoulders lighten considerably. _I win._

They leave once the next recess begins, and June makes sure that Serena Joy gets a good look at them. _All_ of them. The child she planned to steal. The man whose faith meant nothing to her. And her of course, the woman whose life she almost ruined. Their eyes meet, and June mouths the only two words she ever wants to speak to her: _you failed._

***

"How did she look?" asks Rita over dinner that night.

"I hope they're making her suffer," mumbles Moira in the middle of a mouthful of pasta.

"Well, she definitely didn't look like herself, that's for sure. But she's always been so stoic, so I'm not sure if they've broken her," says June.

"She deserves everything she gets. They all do... It's too bad Aunt Lydia got killed. Would've been nice to see her go down in person," sighs Emily.

"Agreed," nods Moira. "Hey, Nicky, can you grab me another beer from the fridge?" she continues, winking at Nick. He shoots her a glare back. He still isn't used to the nickname.

"Oh, Nick, can you also hand me the apple sauce?" asks June. "Clara loves that stuff," she tells the others.

"Well, of course she does, especially since the apples were fucking hand-picked by her favorite Auntie Moira," replies Moira, tickling the baby under her chin.

Nick sighs deeply as he sees June jab Moira's side to mind her tongue. Clara's first word would probably be _fuck_. Despite all that, it's nothing short of a miracle to see June so relaxed after the stress of that same morning. The impromptu dinner party was her idea, but he'd done most of the cooking. It was a wonder that everything had turned out edible. 

"Did you really make this?" inquires Rita, lifting a brow.

"I actually did. I know, it's..."

"Progress. You've come a long way."

"I guess."

"You still happy with the job?"

"Yeah, but I was wondering if we could... Talk about something related to that. Not tonight, but sometime soon."

"We can talk now."

He hesitates when he notices that the others have stopped talking and are now looking at him expectantly. He hasn't even told June about his idea yet.

"I was thinking of going back to school... College," he says, feeling his face heating up. 

"Oh, you mean the engineering classes?" asks Rita.

He nods.

"But that's a great idea! I'll help you find something."

He manages a smile at Rita, but his attention's not on her anymore, but on June. She's practically beaming at him from the other end of the table. 

Clara's already asleep when their guests leave and it's just him and June left in the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes. Hannah's spending the night at Luke's, so it's quieter than usual.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to study?" she asks.

"I didn't want to talk about something that might not work out," he tries to explain.

"Well, I'm proud of you. Whether it works out or not," she says, bumping her shoulder into his.

"I just... I want to show Clara that she shouldn't settle. That education's important."

June nods.

"I've been thinking about something, too, if we're being honest tonight," she says, chewing on her bottom lip.

"What?"

"Us, actually."

Although he doesn't _think_ she's trying to dump him, a lump still forms in his throat. _Can this be anything good?_

"What do you think about marriage?" she asks.

His hands still in the sink. _What is he expected to say here?_

"Don't look so horrified, I'm not proposing to you."

"Uh, I'm not opposed to it," he chokes back. In truth, he's a little disappointed.

"Good. Like I said, I'm not proposing to you or anything, but I've just been thinking that one day I could be open to getting married again. To you."

"That's good to know." He tries to hold his stupid grin in. She's going to be his wife someday, unless he manages to screw this up somehow.

June's soapy fingers slide down his arm and when he turns to face her, she's looking at him _that way_. The same look that drove him to the brink of insanity in Gilead. 

"I don't think we've done it here before," she murmurs.

He stops her before she manages to unbuckle his belt, laying a hand on top of hers. There's something that needs to be said. It's always there, but he knows he doesn't say it often enough.

"I love you, June."

"And I love you," she replies, and it's the last thing he hears before he's lost in her touch.

 


End file.
